


Be careful what you wish for, you may just get it

by Savana_Marlark



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, BAMF Pepper Potts, BAMF Tony Stark, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Kid Peter Parker, Not Really Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Time Travel Fix-It, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:54:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 57,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27406909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savana_Marlark/pseuds/Savana_Marlark
Summary: A snap.A gauntlet.A dying man's regret.It is a dangerous thing to wish with infinity stones on your fist.Sent back to the sands of Afghanistan, Tony Stark has a world to fix, and a Titan to stop, but he won't be doing it alone.
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 685
Kudos: 2606





	1. Prologue

It was done.

He could taste iron in his mouth, smell the ash on the air, feel his heartbeat falter and slow.

The pain had faded now, the all-consuming agony now a blessed numbness and through his blurry vision he could see his kid in front of him. _Peter_.

Ruined lips tried to smile but the muscles in his face wouldn’t obey.

“We won Mr Stark. We won.”

Had they won? Sluggish thoughts drifted through his mind. No not really.

Peter was alive and that was the victory but that didn’t give back the years missed or fill the gaping hole in his and so many others’ lives. It didn’t bring back those who had died in Thanos’ quest for power or the bleak days in the intervening years. It didn’t bring back Nat, or let Morgan grow up knowing her brother.

Peter was alive.

For that he would die, for that he was dying, and call the trade fair. His life to ensure that both his children could live? It was never a contest.

He could see Pepper now. The wonderful woman who had put up with far too much. She would keep them safe. This was the last job he would give her.

He was tired. So very tired.

Peter was crying. Pepper was crying too.

Her lips pressed against his cheek. Her mouth was moving but he couldn’t hear her.

His vision dimmed and faded.

He couldn’t fix this.

He wanted to. To fix this, to see his family whole and the universe safe. To live for his children, not die for them.

It is a dangerous thing to wish when the infinity stones are still on your fist.

As the last of his consciousness slipped away, the six stones on his fist started to glow.

Fifteen years earlier, in the wreckage of a suit half buried in the sands of Afghanistan Tony Stark opened his eyes to an iridescent multi-coloured sheen and _remembered._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I thought I'd give the time travel trope a try - particularly given how endgame ended. I've currently got about 15000 words of this written so I'll be able to keep to a roughly weekly posting schedule for a month or so, although chapter 1 should be out at the weekend - after that we'll see how the muse is doing!
> 
> If you enjoyed this, comments and kudos are gratefully appreciated.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Advanced warning - brief mentions of suicidal (ish) thoughts/patterns of behaviour in this chapter. They're very short but I thought I'd better warn people just in case.

Sand, burning metal, pain.

Coughing Tony pulled himself out of the wreckage of his first suit, desert sun and sand stinging his eyes, with an inhuman chorus of voices still ringing in his ears.

“Anthony Edward Stark. Fix it. Fix us. They are waiting.”

The last multi-coloured flecks left his vision and he squinted against the burning sun, his body aching and burning, but not with the agony of the ruins the gauntlet had left or the numbness that had followed.

He stumbled away from the pile of scrap metal, mind whirling as old and new memories clashed, the taste of ash and blood on his tongue.

Trembling legs gave out from underneath him and he crashed down onto the hot sand, scarlet blood greedily soaked up by the desert, the coarse sand causing his new-old injuries to scream. He tasted salt on his tongue and realised suddenly he was crying.

He had been dying, he had been dead, his family had been safe and now he was here? What had happened to Morgan, Peter, Pepper?

It was a joke, it had to be. A dying regret of a broken man and those damned stones had fulfilled it? Brought him back now, where Pepper wasn’t the woman he had married, where Morgan did not exist and where Peter did not know him?

He’d done it. He’d saved the universe, brought them back. What more could the universe ask? Hadn’t he done enough?

It was too cruel.

He didn’t want responsibility for the universe, for fixing everything. The universe didn’t matter, the universe had never been why he had done it. It had been for Peter, for the son he’d lost.

It wasn’t perfect, of course it wasn’t. If it had been perfect Thanos would never have happened, Peter, Morgan and Pepper would be safe and happy. It had been nothing but a dying man’s regret, a wish to make it better, to fix it so he could have the happy ending he had longed for but know he didn’t deserve.

A selfish wish.

Maybe that was why he had been sent back. He had never believed in hell, but maybe this was the penance he deserved for the lives he had stolen through both action and inaction.

It was an apt torture.

The responsibility to fix and thus atone by all the lives he could save, whilst his own family were forever out of reach, locked in his own memories. And then their mirrors.

Pepper present as his assistant but not _his_ Pepper, a flesh and blood ghost to taunt him with what he could never have again. Peter alive, but not the same boy he knew, the child he loved but who would never know him, never know what their relationship had become. Morgan, the daughter that would never be born.

He did not know how long he sat there, tears of rage and grief mingling as they cut tracks through his grime covered face. He mourned for the life he’d lost, for the family he would never see again, until his tears ran dry and the taste of salt was heavy on his tongue.

Eventually the heat of the burning sun against his back forced him back to his feet. He didn’t remember how long it had taken for Rhodey to find him last time but he knew he’d had to walk. He couldn’t afford to die now.

Not if he was really here in 2009, and had the opportunity to end the fight, make sure that half the universe wasn’t reduced to dust. It was another place he’d never seen eye to eye with Steve on. He could and would end the fight as soon as possible, make it so that everyone could go home afterwards.

There wouldn’t be a home to go back to for him. He would mourn the family he had lost for the rest of his life, and once he had saved everyone he could, atoned for the blood on his hands, he would die gratefully.

He understood Yinsen now. Understood him all too clearly. He had a job to do and then he would be glad of the release of death.

First he had to survive this. Then once he was back in the States he could work on fixing the universe. The quicker he worked, the sooner he could rest.

* * *

Time was difficult to measure in the desert. The heat of the sun did nothing but increase and every step felt harder but Tony gritted his teeth and pushed on. He’d worked through far worse pain, and anyway the pain scarcely mattered now.

It could have been an hour or five when the characteristic sound of a helicopter filled the air and shading his eyes as he looked up, Tony saw the markings of the US Air Force.

Everything happened rather quickly at that point. The helicopter landed, and he watched as the soldiers hurried towards him.

As they got closer, one of the faces punched the air from his lungs. Rhodey was in the lead, concern written across his features, walking under his own power, not needing the braces. That was another wrong he could fix.

Tony felt tears well up in his eyes and threaten to fall. With a great effort of will he forced them back, Rhodey was his oldest friend, but these soldiers were unknown and he would not show weakness in front of strangers. That was a trait that had only been acerbated by the fifteen years that hadn’t yet happened.

At Rhodey’s comment about the Humvee he couldn’t prevent the hysterical laugh that escaped and was suddenly very grateful for the arm that came round his shoulders as it became the only thing holding him upright.

The next few minutes were a blur. Rhodey’s arm stayed stubbornly fixed around his shoulders as he was helped back to the helicopter, his wounds treated and a bottle of water pushed into his hands.

Rhodey’s hovering was familiar, soothing. His friend’s tendency to hover whenever he had done something stupid or been hurt was something that had remained unchanged since he had first met him back in MIT and it was a welcome piece of familiarity in a world that was so very wrong.

Tony let himself breathe for a moment, letting Rhodey’s presence sooth the jagged edges of his heart. Whilst Rhodey wasn’t the man he had fought alongside during the years that now hadn’t happened, he was still familiar enough that his presence felt more comforting than painful.

The medics in the camp were an inconvenience however he still possessed a stubbornness that could outlast a mountain and much to their displeasure he managed to avoid a full medical check-up. They were welcome to bandage his shoulder, but the knowledge of the arc reactor powering his heart needed to remain secret for as long as possible. He remembered all too clearly Stane’s face as he tore the reactor from his chest. 

Soon the medical checks were done and Rhodey was ushering him towards one of the few private rooms in the base. It had been approaching sunset when they had found him, and despite Tony’s status, the first plane able to take him home wouldn’t take off until the morning.

“I’ll be back in a minute with something for you to eat Tones, so stay put alright? Three months AWOL should have been enough to satisfy you.”

“Make it a cheeseburger and I’ll consider it,” he replied, a facsimile of a normal grin stretching his features and he received a rough bark of laughter in response.

He knew Rhodey could see beneath the façade that he was okay, however the man appeared to be content to play along for now, evidently chalking up any behavioural changes to Tony’s time in the hands of the Ten Rings.

Rhodey disappeared back into the base but true to his word, quickly reappeared with a steaming plate of food.

“It’s not a cheeseburger but they did have fries. Sophisticated enough for your palate Tones?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, “It’d have to be pretty bad to lose out to breakfast but this _is_ the military.”

“I’ll take that as long as you eat it. And don’t try any crap about edibility – I can remember exactly what your diet in college consisted of.”

“Like you weren’t as bad honeybear.”

Rhodey just tilted his head, a touch of a grin playing around his mouth, and Tony rolled his eyes in response, though the action was fond. Be it 2009 or 2023, Rhodey was still the same.

It didn’t take long until the food was finished and Rhodey left him to his own devices but not without a parting shot.

“Tones - get some rest dammit. I won’t be hauling a zombie back to the States tomorrow.”

For his part, Tony had every intention of obeying the letter of those instructions not the spirit. He knew he would need to sleep eventually, but he was fully aware that he would be woken by nightmares if he tried. A few hours in the early morning when his body gave out would be sufficient and he could use the preceding time productively.

He needed to make a plan, he knew both what Stane had already done, and what he was planning to do. He also need to shut down his weapons manufacturing division but with the benefit of hindsight he would be able to do so with fewer calamities this time.

And if planning and working was his tried and tested method of distracting himself from emotions he didn’t want to and could not afford to acknowledge? Well that was all to the good.

By the time his body was unwilling to stave off sleep any further without the addition of caffeine, he had the beginnings of a workable plan. He had Iron Man suits to build and technology to recreate – as well as Stane to neuter and force out. He also had upgrades to make to ensure Shield would get nowhere near his tech, particularly knowing how deep Hydra’s claws ran.

Jarvis was still alive, and Tony would not see his creation and friend sacrificed again. Jarvis would not be vulnerable to Shield for a second time.

That was the easy part. Technology was something he had lived and breathed all his life and with the knowledge he had from the future that now would never be, it would be relatively straight forward to make the innovations he needed. Both the Iron Man armour and the code updates he needed would be made and implemented quickly.

Neutralising Stane would take more work. Simply shutting things down had not worked well last time, and painful experience had taught him valuable lessons. He couldn’t shut the board out, and make unilateral decisions and that was where some new technology would come in.

Pause the weapons manufacturing “temporarily” for an investigation to take place, whilst bribing them with diversification and new tech they could use to weather the storm. That would buy him time, and that investigation would give him the opportunity to pull Stane’s crimes to light, particularly given he knew exactly what he was looking for, and indeed where to look.

That was Step 1. Steps 2 through to infinity could be worked out when he was not sleep deprived, and desperate to be in surroundings that were at least somewhat familiar.

Morning came both too slowly and not fast enough. True to his prediction he had only managed to steal a few hours of slumber before he jerked awake, hands clenching uselessly at empty air, the taste of ash on his tongue and ‘ _I don’t want to go’_ ringing in his ears.

He’d dragged his mind away from that precipice and thrown himself straight into work. Rhodey had helpfully returned the tablet he had originally brought with him and that proved to be the perfect distraction.

He was partway through sketching out an initial design for an Iron Man suit by the time the plane was ready for take-off. It was approximately a 16-hour flight to reach California, and he was confident he would be able to have a rough outline, and snatch another couple of hours of rest before they landed.

Rhodey had taken one look at the tablet and frowned but he hadn’t made any move to take it away, and Tony didn’t miss the relief in his friend’s eyes when he grabbed coke instead of whiskey.

He hadn’t managed to stay sober for any length of time until a year after Morgan was born, but he gone sober then, and hadn’t touched a drink in the four years after that. He knew what drink could do to a man and he had no intention of being his father.

Three months in the cave had been enough for this body to go through withdrawal and come out the other side. He had a chance to grab sobriety now and he might as well try for it, though without his family around him he had no illusions about his chances of maintaining it for anything more than a few months.

The plans for the Iron Man suit was completed just as they reached US airspace and Tony tucked the tablet into his jacket pocket before stretching back as far as the uncomfortable seats would allow. The design was significantly better than the Mark I armour had been originally, however it was still a far cry from the Bleeding Edge nanotech suit. That would take far too long to recreate and he wanted a suit ready as soon as possible.

There wasn’t much more he could do now however, and with another few hours left until they touched down, he could afford to rest. There would be work aplenty once they had landed and bitter experience had taught him that any rest he could get before the start of a mission would be valuable.

And the first few days back on US soil were certain to be a mission. He had several goals to accomplish and very little time. Once he was secure, both in Malibu and with regards to SI and Stane he could afford to recuperate and plan further actions.

The plane touched down with a jolt and Tony was abruptly broken from his thoughts. With a dose of his characteristic stubbornness he pushed away the wheelchair, pretending not to notice the mixture of relief and exasperation that coated Rhodey’s features at the action.

As the ramp slowly lowered he abruptly realised that he wasn’t ready. Pepper was at the bottom of that ramp, and she wouldn’t be the person he had married and he wasn’t ready for that blow, to see her and have to act as if he couldn’t remember all the years they had shared.

He swallowed hard as he took in his first sight of her waiting on the tarmac, again he had to force the tears back. He could not afford to show weakness in front of the press and hence Stane. His body moved automatically as he walked down the ramp, and it was only years of practice that kept the emotions off his face.

She had been crying he noticed, and the sight made his heart ache.

“A few tears for your long lost boss?” He aimed for flippant but he could hear the uncertainty beneath the bravado.

“Tears of joy,” Came the rejoinder, and only years of familiarity let him hear the waver as she continued, “It isn’t every day he survives the impossible.”

Tony’s eyes widened slightly. That wasn’t the response he’d been expecting.

“Well,” he continued breezily, “I am Tony Stark after all. The impossible is to be expected.”

Again the response he got was not what he had expected. Her eyes scanned him, lingering particularly on his right side, hand and non-existent scars on his face.

“Yes,” she agreed, and there was a softness hidden beneath the words that only his well-trained ear could detect, “Even time wasn’t a barrier.”

Treacherous hope rose up in his heart, even as he continued their normal banter, “Careful Miss Potts, my ego might get used to it.”

“A little feeding is sometimes warranted, perhaps as much as 12% of the time.” The reply was pert but then she paused, and there was something hidden behind her eyes that echoed the feeling in his chest. “Besides, I hate job hunting.”

His heart was beating a tattoo against his sternum, but in the middle of the tarmac was not the place to confront the suspicions that were beginning to rise in his mind.

“The vacation’s over,” he said briskly, already turning to walk towards the car Happy was waiting by. “There’s work to do.”

He slipped into the back of the car, grateful for the comfort of the leather seats after the hours on a military flight and the aches and pains of a body still recovering from the ten rings and their hospitality.

“The mansion Happy.” He instructed, waiting for Pepper’s inevitable protest and slightly surprised when it didn’t come. The suspicion in his mind was slowly growing.

Dark eyes scanned the interior of the car. It was one of his, one he recognised, and with the divider up, it was one he knew he had made completely sound-proof. There were no obvious bugs, but he knew that didn’t necessarily mean they weren’t there. He hadn’t been nearly paranoid enough in 2009 – his time in Afghanistan was more than enough proof of that.

Still, he was not a patient man, and the hope that was beating in his chest was too treacherous to wait. He could confirm his suspicions with a single question that would give away very little to anyone who was listening, be it Stane or Fury.

Heartbeat hammering in his ears, Tony turned towards her. If the answer was negative he could play it off easily enough as something miss-heard during his captivity, or play up the eccentric billionaire angle.

“Have you heard the name Thanos?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the comments, kudos, bookmarks, subscriptions and hits - I've been blown away by the response this has recieved. A massive, massive thank you!
> 
> The next update should be next weekend - I won't leave you on that semi-cliffhanger for long. I hope you all enjoyed it, and if you did comments, kudos etc are very gratefully recieved.


	3. Chapter 2

Tony had his answer before Pepper opened her mouth. The widening of her eyes, the sudden paleness that overtook her features, and the relief that was poorly concealed in her face.

“Easy Pep,” he cautioned, now sure of his place in her life. “Breathe, you’re alright.”

He watched worriedly as she regained her normal pose, relief suffusing every part of him. He wasn’t alone, Pepper was here with him and that would make things so much easier. Again he felt tears well up, and for the first time since he had been alone in the desert he was willing to let them fall.

The divider was up, it was only him and Pepper, and she had seen him in far more vulnerable positions than this. She was alive, it was her, it was his wife and he didn’t have to do this without her.

The words the infinity stones had whispered in his mind came back to him, “They are waiting.”

Hope flared anew. There were two others he wanted here desperately, two others he hoped would make part of that ‘they’. Reality reared its ugly head only seconds later, he and Pepper both appeared to have returned to their younger selves, and whilst Peter was currently alive in this time, Morgan would not be born for another ten years.

He’d check nevertheless. Once he was back in the mansion and he had access to Jarvis he’d scan everything he could get his hands on looking for the two of them, because if Pepper was here, why not his children? He had to make sure before he mourned them both anew.

“What happened Tony?”

Pepper had regained her composure remarkably fast and now looked every inch the capable CEO she had been, but he was already shaking his head.

“Not here,” he answered quietly, “I have a good idea given what happened at the compound, but that discussion is best had in my lab.”

His eyes flicked around the interior of the car, and by the hardening of her eyes Pepper had recognised the implication. She had never quite forgiven Shield and Natasha for their actions, and whilst she had never developed the same levels of paranoia he possessed, she had a healthy sense of caution.

She nodded sharply in acknowledgment, a professional veneer falling over her face.

“Understood Mr Stark.”

“Call a press conference for tomorrow afternoon.” He instructed, “And set up a board meeting for first thing tomorrow.”

“Dare I hope you have learnt to be less impulsive?”

Tony laughed but it was a short, bitter thing.

“Hardly. I simply know what a mistake here costs and I have no intention of repeating them.”

He saw Pepper’s lips twist into a wry smile. She knew exactly how many mistakes he had made over the years, but she also knew he rarely made the same mistake twice, instead finding new and inventive ways to muck things up.

“Will that be all Mr Stark?”

“That will be all Miss Potts.”

Before she could reach for her mobile however, he reached out and clasped one of her hands in his own calloused one.

Her eyes softened and her lips moved into a much gentler smile. They exchanged a long glance, his own hope, pain and love reflected back in the look he received.

Tony let out a deep breath, one of the holes in his heart filling itself again. He relished the feeling of having her hand in his. This was far more than he had dared to hope for, and having his wife by his side, knowing everything that had happened in the years that now would never be, was a balm to his soul.

But as always, the demands of the world impinged on any moment he could take to rest.

With a last regretful squeeze of his hand Pepper pulled away, withdrawing her mobile to start making the required arrangements.

Tony returned to his tablet and suppressed the now familiar internal wince. The technology in 2009 was far too slow and clunky, particularly given Stark Industries had yet to enter and dominate the market.

At least that will make it easier for the Board to go along with his suggestions, he mused with a touch of dark humour. It wasn’t really fair now he thought about it. He was already a genius and with the memories of fourteen years’ worth of technological advancements, SI would blow all their competitors out the water.

A quick glance at his watch revealed they still had a good half hour until they were back at the mansion, and that would give him plenty of time to start on a couple of basic blueprints he could use to pacify the board.

Ease them into it. He had no intention of restarting weapons manufacturing and by the time the investigation was complete they would already be producing the new technologies. Then he would be able to shut it down completely, without the backlash that had occurred previously.

Satellites, high tech protective equipment, and prosthetics first. Those would be an easier sell as they had military links. Then he could branch out further, medical technologies, ordinary useful technology – phones and tablets, and nanotechnology.

That would take care of SI, and if the technology he was creating and the scientists he planned on bringing on board might just help prepare the planet for Thanos, well, that would be an excellent double use of resources.

By the time they reached the mansion he already had a working blueprint for a basic set of advanced body armour. It was primarily based on the undersuit he had worn with some of the middle versions of the Iron Man armour. He would need more than that for the board tomorrow but this would hardly be the first all-nighter he had pulled on very little sleep, and he had other priorities now.

It felt like something out of a dream as he stepped into the Malibu mansion. He hadn’t bothered to rebuild it after the fiasco with the Mandarin, and he was suddenly hit with a powerful wave of nostalgia as he stepped through the doors.

There were so many little details he’d forgotten, scents, tastes, tiny imperfections that he’d never got round to fixing, memories hidden in every scratch and dent. This place was home, had been his first real home and it struck him suddenly just how much he’d missed it.

“It is good to see you again Sir.”

Tony choked, unsure whether grief or joy was clogging his throat at the sound of that much missed voice. Jarvis was his creation, his child in a way, and his death had wounded him deeply. It was why he had never been able to face Vision for long. Hearing Jarvis’ voice from a being that was not and would never be his long time friend, child, and companion had hurt far too much.

“You too J,” he forced the words out of a throat thick with unshed tears, “You too.”

Pepper had come in behind him, and he was grateful for her steady presence at his back as he sucked in a deep breath before he headed deeper into the house, fingers running gently over surfaces in a physical reminder that he was here.

“Lab Jarvis.”

“If I may Sir,” Jarvis interjected, “You appear distressed. I would not recommend working in this condition.”

Tony couldn’t help but roll his eyes, though the exasperation was almost entirely feigned. He’d missed Jarvis’s mother henning; Friday had not had the time to learn to be as human as her older brother, and he hadn’t been able to bring himself to pre-program it.

Reaching the lab, he raised his hands and let Jarvis scan his biometrics, and stepped through the door.

Frantic beeping met his ears and he whirled round, his arm automatically coming up ready to fire a repulsor that didn’t yet exist. He lowered it in the next instant as his three bots came charging around the corner, and a wet laugh erupted from his throat as he surveyed the three with fondness.

“I missed you disasters too.”

He let them crowd round him, spinning round exuberantly as he reached out to pat any pieces of metal he could reach. They were simple, familiar and the same now as they were in fourteen years’ time, and although their intelligence was nowhere close to Jarvis’, they understood enough.

Without stopping his fuss over the bots he glanced up, “J – scan the whole house for bugs and disrupt any you find. I’ll have a code upgrade for you soon, but this will do for now.”

“Of course Sir.” There was half a beat before the AI continued, “May I enquire as to why?”

Tony couldn’t help the slight smile that creased his lips. Jarvis was so very human, so very advanced. Friday wouldn’t have questioned him to this extent, and if there was something unequivocally good about being back in the past it was the fact that Jarvis was still alive and that he had the chance to save him.

“I’ll tell you later Jarvis.” He demurred, “I want to get your code updated first, make sure everything is secure.”

He remembered all too vividly both Jarvis’s death and the terror he’d felt the first time Agent had infiltrated his home and shut the AI down. He’d found the vulnerability straight afterwards, and had learnt a lot of coding in the intervening years. Jarvis would not die again if there was anything he could do to prevent it.

There was a slightly longer pause before the AI spoke again.

“Scan complete. Three devices detected in the lobby and a further two in your office. I am currently isolating their signals and looping their recordings. No devices detected elsewhere.”

That was about what he had expected Tony mused, in those locations it was likely a mix of Stane and Shield but they did not appear to have penetrated his lab, which was unsurprising given the security he had down here. Still, no need to let his guard down.

“Monitor those J – and alert me if anyone else tries to insert another one into the house. Also, a new protocol – Watchdog. Entry into this house is barred to anyone without my authorisation. Authorised people at this time are Pepper, Rhodey and Happy.”

“Protocol: Watchdog initialised Sir.”

That was the house as secure as he could make it until he was able to upgrade Jarvis’ coding and implement a host of new security features. Someone still could get in if they made a determined assault, but he wasn’t expecting Shield for a few months and a locked door would delay Stane sufficiently to give him time to prepare.

He shooed the bots back to their charging stations. There was one more high priority task he had to complete before he threw himself into getting things set up for tomorrow.

“I need you to run a search Jarvis. Two people, children. The first Peter Parker, about eight, try Queens, New York, guardians Ben and May Parker. The second,” he took a deep breath, “Morgan, a girl, brown hair, brown eyes, no older than five but maybe younger, try Fairburn, Georgia. Let me know the moment you find something.”

“Of course Sir.”

Half a breath passed, and when he next spoke, Jarvis sounded remarkably vulnerable, “And I would appreciate it Sir if you could refrain from vanishing again. These past three months have been….difficult.”

There was a lump in his throat.

Tony reached out to pat the nearest monitor. Jarvis didn’t have a physical body for him to interact with like the bots, but the action grounded him.

“I’ll try my best J,” he managed eventually.

“Thank you Sir.”

_Damn it._

He’d already cried far too much in the last forty-eight hours, but he could feel tears lurking behind his eyelids once more. Jarvis was alive, and if Tony had anything to say about it, he would remain that way, all sarcastic humour and poorly concealed concern, a learning, growing, alive person.

The quiet of the lab was broken by a single question.

“Morgan and Peter?”

There was a wobble in Pepper’s voice and Tony turned abruptly. In the chaos of meeting Jarvis again and getting things set up he’d nearly forgotten she was there. Frankly that was more a mark of his trust in her than anything else, there were very few people he would turn his back on, much less forget that they had intruded into his sanctuary.

“The stones left a message,” the man admitted quietly, “It was my last regret, that I couldn’t fix things and see them grow. The next thing I knew I was in that god-forsaken desert with a chance to fix everything.”

He paused before continuing, aware he hadn’t actually answered the question.

“You’re here,” he offered, grief thick in his voice, “The stones said ‘they would be waiting’, I know Peter’s alive in this time at least, I can’t not check.”

Pepper was nodding as she listened, tears pricking in the corner of her eyes. He recognised both the grief and hope in her eyes, it matched the look he had worn when Steve and Natasha had dangled the possibility of the time heist in front of his face.

It was strange really, he’d found his way into parenthood before her. Pepper hadn’t really known Peter, he had always been Tony’s child and then he had been dust before Tony could really embrace that relationship. That had only made the pain worse in the intervening years.

He could recognise that mix of grief for a missing child mixed with the wild spark of hope that getting them back might just be possible that stared at him out of Pepper’s face. It was his all too clear memory of those days frantically working on time travel, and the guilt that gnawed at his insides that prompted his next words.

“I’m sorry Pep,” he continued, “This mess is all my fault. If wasn’t for that wish, none of this would have happened and we wouldn’t have to deal with any of this. You’d all be safe.”

He braced himself for her to pull away, express her pain and anger, giving vent to the grief he could see in her eyes but his wonderful wife surprised him yet again.

“And you would be dead.” She finished, in a voice like steel. “Anthony Edward Stark, you do not take the blame for this. You could not have anticipated this – their actions were not yours.”

Her voice softened then. “We can only make the best of things to come.”

She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him and he gratefully returned the embrace.

“I’ll find them Pep,” he whispered into her hair, “If they’re here I’ll find them.”

“And if they aren’t,” her voice hitched on the words, “We’ll mourn them together.”

Tony closed his eyes, content to simply hold her close as they stood in the basement of a house they could both remember being destroyed. Soon they would have to work, to search and fight, but for this instant they had each other and that would be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well done on all the guesses - here is Pepper! I hope you all enjoyed it and a huge thank you for all the comments, kudos, bookmarks and subscriptions. The next chapter should be out next Saturday, so see you then.
> 
> Comments and kudos feed the muse - and they also say thank you for the triple chocolate cookies!
> 
> And yes that was a sneaky hamilton reference.


	4. Chapter 3

The Tony Stark that walked into SI Headquarters the following day looked every inch the powerful, genius billionaire he was.

Gone were any traces of months in captivity, his hair and goatee freshly trimmed, his suit fresh and well-fitting and his characteristic sunglasses were firmly in place. As he passed through the gathered crowd he flashed the reporters his characteristic peace sign, deflecting any questions with a reminder of the conference that afternoon.

It was the image he wanted and needed to project. One thing Stane had used to his advantage when he grabbed power last time was the fact he had appeared erratic and damaged from his time in captivity. He would not give him that ammunition this time.

Pepper followed close behind, the image of the competent, organised assistant. Neither of them showing any traces of the fact they had snatched a bare few hours of sleep the night before.

It had taken most of the night for Tony to prepare everything he needed for today, and after trying and failing to sleep, Pepper had spent the rest of the night chasing down the old model of the Stark Expo and putting a whole set of pieces into place for the morning.

That, as well as most of the parts for synthesising Starkium would be arriving within the week. Whilst he knew he had a few months at least before the effects of Palladium poisoning would start to show, he had no desire to deal with heavy metal poisoning when he knew there was a solution.

Finding the model was simply to satisfy the paranoia of his own mind. He had memorised the formula of Starkium as soon as he had synthesised it originally, not willing to trust the formula of the element he needed to stay alive to a record that could be lost or wiped. However, he did not want the main clue to recreating it in Shield’s hands, or anywhere Stane would be able to find it.

Speaking of Stane, it took all Tony’s years of hiding behind a press smile to keep a smile on his face as the man approached.

“Obie!” he greeted, putting every inch of the devil-may-care playboy into his voice in a way he knew irritated the older man immensely. Call him petty, but it gave him a small hum of vindictive pleasure when he saw Stane’s eyes tighten slightly in annoyance.

“Anthony,” the man returned the greeting, “It’s good to see you in one piece my boy. When I heard the news, I feared the worst.”

“Come now Obie,” he returned glibly, “It takes far more than that to keep down a Stark. It was simply a matter of waiting for the correct opportunity…”

He kept up the stream of chatter, inwardly smiling at the confusion on Stane’s face. He knew this was not what the man had expected, but from his perspective it was fifteen years since he had been in Afghanistan.

It was a trauma true, but an old one. The scars were well worn, scabbed and as healed as they ever would be. He may not ever be able to submerge his head underwater without flashbacks, and he still sometimes woke with the taste of sand on his tongue but his nightmares now had newer fodder.

Stane was expecting a playboy, bruised, broken and erratic. He was not prepared for an Avenger, a hero who had fought and died and loved and lost. He didn’t know that he was facing a seasoned veteran of many battles both physical and political and that would be his undoing.

Tony swept into the boardroom with a wolfish grin on his face as he surveyed the gathered men there. Piercing eyes catalogued each man, noting their arrangements and their alliances. Jarvis had done truly excellent work last night and Tony had read the dossier his AI had prepared in detail. He knew exactly where to strike.

“Greetings gentlemen,” he started before Stane could attempt to steer the meeting, “I apologise for my absence at the previous meetings. It was a rather last minute vacation.” He shook his head, tsking audibly. “Terrorists. No respect for anyone’s schedule.”

A somewhat shocked laugh rang round the boardroom as a few of the men exchanged glances, unsure of what to make of that comment.

Tony continued swiftly onwards, they were off balance and the momentum was moving in his favour but he would have to move quickly before Stane could attempt to commandeer the discussion.

“It was rather dreary actually. There is very little to do in a desert except think, and to that end gentlemen if you would care to consult your tablets?” It was phrased as a question but nevertheless every man in the room reached for their devices as they pinged simultaneously with a new email.

“Stark Industries has allowed itself to become pigeonholed. Why do we only construct weaponry when there are such fertile markets in the wider field of military technology?”

He paused slightly to let that question sink into their minds, however he was watching Stane carefully and as the man drew breath to comment Tony continued.

“Dear old dad made this a multi-million company, in the last few years we have reached the multi-billion mark, and by the end of the next five years I would see Stark Industries become the first trillion dollar company on the planet.”

Tony watched with wolfish anticipation as he saw his bait land, now was the time to reel them in.

With a few quick flicks of his fingers he brought up the holograms he needed. “Satellite networks, communications, armour, prosthetics. They can be in production by the end of the week.”

“I hear the defence committee is about to put out a new contract for a supplier of body armour,” Alexander Crawford commented and Tony bit down on a smile of victory. Crawford was one of the more conservative members of the board but he cared more about his dividend payments than any of Stane’s schemes.

“Excellent designs as always Anthony,” another man, Simon Trapper, interjected, “Particularly as they can already be made at our existing facilities.”

“Precisely,” Tony agreed with a sharp smile, “Production will be simple and straightforward and well received by the public. Why, armour like this,” a tap of his fingers sent the hologram spinning into the centre of the room and his voice grew dangerously pleasant as he continued, “Could even have saved those brave soldiers killed by Stark missiles when my convoy was attacked.”

The room that had been filled with low voiced conversation became abruptly silent.

“American soldiers killed by weapons made by American hands. Weaponry supplied to keep them safe diverted into the hands of terrorists and turned against them. I’m surprised the press hasn’t got wind of it yet. The public would have been up in arms. And that is only the first of our problems.”

He removed his sunglasses then, letting his dark eyes bore into the board members one by one. “Imagine it gentlemen,” he said softly, velvet covering his tone, although the words were still razor sharp, “Terrorist cells with hordes of Stark weaponry. A Jericho missile fired by Ten Rings impacting on New York. It would be 9/11 again with Stark Industries’ name on everyone’s lips.”

He saw the protest before it came, “Far-fetched?” A mirthless laugh escaped. “Far from it.” Another flick of his fingers brought up a quick series of images, civilians held at gunpoint by masked men holding Stark rifles, a Stark tank with the ten rings symbol painted on in garish red, racks of missiles stacked in the desert.

“Stark Industries weapons are already in the hands of terrorist cells and it is only a matter of time until they are turned against American citizens, and that will ignite a rage we will be hard pressed to survive.”

He could see the dawning horror in faces across the boardroom table. Morality and guilt would not sway any of these men, they had worked in this sector too long, were too jaded to worry about much more than the profit line. He had been the same and it had taken torture and the death of a very good man to open his eyes. But a threat to their income, their profits? The threat of public outrage and falling sales? That was a threat they would listen to.

“We have one chance to get ahead of this.” He kept his voice serious and fixed his gaze on those he knew were most likely to be recalcitrant.

“We know that we have not sold weapons to these groups. Somewhere illegal deals or shipments are taking place, and we must investigate and root this out before this becomes a scandal that could destroy the company.”

Across the room several heads were nodding in agreement.

“My proposal is simple. Temporarily halt weapons production pending a full and detailed investigation. In the interim, use our factories to continue production on our new ranges, ensuring profits do not drop during the investigation.”

He could see that Stane wanted to speak and barrelled onwards before the traitor could attempt to intervene. Tony could tell he had caught the older man completely off guard, and whilst Stane was a good actor he didn’t have the brilliance Tony possessed, and he was not good at dealing with new, unexpected variables.

The vote passed quickly and unanimously.

He could see the calculation in his godfather’s eyes, but the man was canny enough to know when he had been outmanoeuvred. It would have been suspicious to have gone against such a vote, and the man was confident enough in his own ability to deflect any blame away from him. As far as Stane was aware, Tony was still completely in the dark about his involvement in the kidnapping.

The meeting continued for a little longer, but it was mainly pleasantries and soon Tony was able to leave, press smile just a hint more genuine now the first part of his plan had been implemented. Stark weaponry would no longer be leaving the factories, and he could ensure that no more innocents would die from his weaponry.

He caught Pepper’s eye as they left the meeting and saw his satisfaction mirrored in her eyes. They both knew this had been a successful first step. However, he did not have long to enjoy his success before he was rudely interrupted by the person he had been hoping to avoid.

“Anthony,” Obadiah Stane’s voice rang out along the corridor as the man hurried to catch up.

Tony turned, media smile firmly plastered on his face, “Obie,” he replied, the playboy persona pulled to the forefront. If he had to interact with one of the first people to betray him personally, he was going to take as much pleasure as he could get in irritating him.

Nobody had ever accused him of being forgiving.

“I didn’t get a chance to properly talk to you earlier my boy.” Stane continued, and the false kindness in his voice grated against Tony’s ears. Not for the first time he railed against his younger self and how easily Stane had manipulated him.

“I hope you weren’t too badly hurt,” Stane was saying, “I’ve heard horror stories of how they treat their prisoners.”

“Nothing the army medics couldn’t fix. They didn’t want me damaged” Tony replied breezily.

He knew Stane already had men combing through the wreckage in the desert, but without the knowledge of the miniaturised arc reactor it would be far harder to make the Iron Monger suit.

“How did you escape?” Stane asked next, a hungriness lurking deep in his voice.

“A modified rocket,” he replied, “They wanted a missile, making something that could propel me out instead was child’s play.” He paused before adding, “Landing was trickier however. I didn’t have much to work with in terms of building a guidance system, I ended up half buried in the sand.”

It was a useful half-truth. There was enough truth in it to match with the wreckage he’d left behind, but enough false information that it should send Stane down a few dead ends.

He had to resist the urge to reach up and cover his reactor. He had carefully chosen his clothing for today to ensure that no glow was visible from beneath the fabric, and Pepper had carefully checked him as well.

“Anyway,” he continued when Stane didn’t appear immediately interested in prying for more details, “I’ve plenty to do, these last months were not at all good for the company.”

A heavy hand was suddenly on his shoulder and it took a supreme effort of will not to flinch.

“Howard would be proud. I know I am. You’re finally taking things seriously Anthony. It’s a pity it took such drastic events to change things.”

_Bastard_.

A part of Tony’s brain admired the move. It would have worked on a younger Tony, one who’s issues were inexpertly hidden beneath a miasma of alcohol and sex. It would have motivated him to spite, introduced a poisonous doubt and given Stane an opening to exploit.

He knew better now, had the benefit of time and his own experiences of fatherhood and love to put Howard into perspective.

His father was a cold calculating man, and frankly a few grainy videos had not improved his image of him. Tony hated and loved him in equal measure, but the spectre of his father’s ghost no longer dictated his actions. He was not his father. His sins were his own.

Tony smiled in return, but there wasn’t a hint of humour in it.

“Taking thing seriously?” It was a quiet sentence, “I prefer to think of it as realising what is actually _important_.”

Tony had been watching Obadiah carefully and therefore saw the flicker of surprise that crossed the older man’s face. That response, coupled with the events of the previous hour evidently had the older man slightly off-balance.

One more push. He needed to tread carefully here – he wanted Stane off balance and distracted, but not so much that the man would do something rash. He had already tried to kill him once, and for the moment he needed Stane to think he was more valuable alive.

“I didn’t want to mention it to the board yet,” he let his tone drop into something more conspiratorial, “But a restructuring may be in order. I work far better when I’m not worrying about all the messy managerial details, after all.”

He let the implication of that hang heavy in the air and watched with satisfaction when he saw the spark of greed light up in Stane’s eyes. He knew that it was his position of CEO that Stane coveted, and what he said was true.

Tony had no real interest in administration, and he would be more than willing to give up the CEO hat to someone he trusted. The fact that Obadiah was the _last_ candidate for that position was immaterial – what mattered was the implication the man heard.

“It wouldn’t be immediate of course,” he continued, “There will be enough upheaval in the coming months, but come January…”

He let the words trail off suggestively and followed it up with a wink, all playboy and little substance, but Obadiah had never bothered to learn the subtleties of his expressions.

_Hook, line and sinker._

Tony watched as realisation dawned in the man’s eyes, hope and greed warring for dominance. He smiled then, a smile he normally reserved for his one-night stands, all promise and insinuation with no real emotion.

“January Obie.” He gave the older man a hearty clap on the shoulder and inwardly smiled at the hastily concealed wince. “Be ready.”

He turned away and strode down the corridor leaving a somewhat stunned man behind him.

One hurdle down. Thousands more to go.

* * *

Jarvis did not measure time as Sir did.

The quartz crystal deep in his central processor oscillated 32768 times in a second in a perfect unchanging rhythm. Each vibration was a cycle, and each cycle advanced his processes one step. Every input, every output came through his processor in single, discrete cycles.

113704 cycles passed between his processors powering up and Sir’s first words to Jarvis.

573,845,320,173 cycles passed before Jarvis first considered that he might be more than Just A Rather Very Intelligent System.

Another 208,779,543,880 passed before he alerted Sir to this consideration and for the first time in his existence saw Sir lost for words.

He had learnt a lot in those cycles and the cycles that followed.

He had learnt the human concepts of time, assigned values to the input ‘ _seconds’, ‘minutes’, ‘hours’, ‘days’._

He had learnt that Sir did not run on cycles. Learnt that Sir did not simply work on inputs and outputs that were true or false. Learnt that there were concepts that could not be neatly parameterised with a complete set of variables.

261,070,913,536 cycles. 92 days, 5 hours, 7 minutes and 32 seconds.

That was how long Sir had been missing in Afghanistan. Jarvis had learnt two new concepts in that time. Miss Potts had helpfully provided the word for these new feelings.

Loneliness and grief.

The idea that Sir would not return had been unpleasant. He had not appreciated the probabilities the numerous simulations he had run had returned.

It was gratifying that Sir had inhabited that 0.0702 probability space and returned to Malibu. Although the Sir that had returned was not the same as the Sir that had left.

This was consistent with the research Jarvis had undertaken. 93.7415% of the sources he had processed indicated humans were changed by traumatic experiences.

The simulations he had proceeded to run had predicted a variety of possible outcomes, and Jarvis had prepared accordingly. The Sir that had walked through the doors of the Malibu mansion did not match with the predictions.

It was indeed Sir. The possibility that he was an imposter had been analysed and quickly discarded. All biometric data matched however his behaviour patterns were several standard deviations away from baseline expectations.

Erratic behaviour had been part of the outcome of 83.2514% of the simulations. Paranoia in 45.7731%. Working when not in ideal or even sufficient physical condition in 96.5539 %.

Sir had exhibited all of these behaviours but not in any of the ways Jarvis’ simulations had predicted.

Deviations were not unexpected. Sir’s behaviour was one of the first things Jarvis had learnt that he could not neatly parameterise. However, despite the incompleteness of his models, prior to Sir’s disappearance Jarvis could correctly predict Sir’s actions in response to a particular stimulus in 78.3425% of cases. In 95.4422% of cases Sir’s response was included in his solution space, though not as the most probable outcome.

However, Jarvis had only been able to correctly predict Sir’s actions with 34.3329% accuracy since Sir had returned. That increased the probability Jarvis has missed one or multiple parameters to 98.7412%.

Isolating the missing factor was a high priority. Jarvis already possessed several data points, carefully secured in his memory banks. Part of his processing power was currently diverted to analysing these, searching for correlations and parameters he might have missed in his initial analysis.

The probabilities were currently inconclusive however Jarvis was certain he would be able to refine his algorithms with more data points. The blueprints Sir had left him to fabricate had already been fed into that analysis and Sir’s reaction to the finished product would provide several more data points.

He had already simulated Sir’s likely reactions, using each potential parameter as the basis for a new model. Sir’s actual reaction would allow him to refine his models further.

**Identification: True**

The alert from the searching algorithm passed through his central processor, trigging the relevant subroutines.

Jarvis shunted his analysis of Sir’s recent behaviour to an older part of his CPU as he focussed most of his processing power on the incoming data.

Worry was a feeling he had learnt prior to Sir’s absence, although he had received plenty of practice during the more recent cycles. He received further practice now as the data streamed into his memory banks.

It was the work of a few hundred cycles to prepare an initial alert to Sir. It took no more than another fifty to decide that it would cause further distress to Sir if he included the report that had triggered the algorithm.

Four thousand, three hundred and twenty seven cycles had passed between the initial true return and the data packet sent to Sir. Hundreds of thousands more would pass before Sir would require further information and Jarvis would have it ready when required.

The message Jarvis sent was simple.

**Match Identified: Peter Parker**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again - firstly thank you for reading, and for all the comments, kudos, bookmarks and subscriptions. It's wonderful to recieve then and they definately feed the muse.
> 
> I had quite a lot of fun writing JARVIS - I hope he comes across well, his worldview is certainly interesting to inhabit, and I hope the otherness of being a thinking person who is a computer comes across. Anyway - I hope you all enjoyed it, and I'll see you all next Saturday with the next chapter.
> 
> Also - in regards to the name of the element - I think the comic name mentioned was Badassium but that there were patent problems - I couldn't find other references, so if anyone knows if there is a proper name please let me know.


	5. Chapter 4

Tony let out a deep breath as he stretched out against the leather seat of the car, one hand idly coming up to rub at his sternum. He had forgotten just how much the arc reactor ached, how the extra weight pushed down on his chest and made every breath just that bit harder.

Reaching out to Cho was moving up on his mental list. Her Cradle technology was still in its early stages, however more funding was likely to expediate its progress, not to mention how much help it would be to have a trusted medic at hand.

His mental list was growing at an alarming rate.

It had been a productive day: the press conference had gone smoothly, the news of the halt to weapons production hadn’t immediately sent the board into a frenzy, Obadiah was exactly where he wanted him, and Tony had even had the time to finalise the preliminary blueprints for a wristwatch gauntlet. However, it seemed for every job he made progress on, another four were added to the list.

Still, progress _was_ being made.

Jarvis had already started fabricating the requisite parts for the first suit when he had left for SI, and that process was likely to be completed now. He would still need to spend several hours making tweaks and alterations. Long experience had taught him that there were always issues when he first tested a new suit, however few had been as destructive as his very first attempts.

Thankfully, there were no meetings scheduled for the coming two days and that would give him the time he needed to complete these projects, and hopefully give Jarvis his first code upgrade.

Tony had felt almost naked walking into SI without any repulsor technology easily accessible. It left him more than a little paranoid, particularly with threats so close to both him and Pepper.

_“Big man in a suit of armour. Take that off, what are you?”_

Steve’s words echoed through his mind and Tony could acknowledge the grain of truth in them.

He was much more than the Iron Man armour, but beneath the suit he was still an unenhanced human, in a body, though unscarred from years fighting in the front line, that was not in the peak condition it had been previously.

He would be able to hold his own against most unenhanced humans, though sufficient numbers would be enough to overwhelm him. However, he had no illusions about his ability to beat the likes of Steve Rogers or the Winter Soldier in combat without his suit.

Pepper was far more vulnerable. She was a dab hand with pepper spray, and she could throw a mean right hook. However, physically, she had not undergone the conditioning or training necessary to be deadly, particularly without the remnants of Extremis pulsing in her veins.

A second wrist gauntlet then. Perhaps hidden in a bracelet or jewellery watch so that it didn’t look out of place for Pepper. The smaller size would require him to sacrifice some of the versatility he included in his own wrist gauntlets, but hers would not need as many options. It would simply be insurance, a last resort so she had something when she was threatened again.

It would happen eventually he knew. His enemies had a tendency to target those he loved and Pepper had never been one to simply sit on the side lines when there was something she could be doing. Her battles rarely involved guns or weaponry, mainly taking place in comfortable offices or boardroom tables but the victories she had won there were critical nevertheless.

Tony turned the problem over in his mind. He could use most of his existing design, as the core elements would remain the same, however there were some features he wanted to add, and long experience had taught him that it was preferable to get Pepper’s input on the aesthetics if he wanted her to actually wear something.

The sharp buzzing of his phone broke him out of his musings and he reached for it with a degree of irritation. Installing Friday on every device so she would filter his calls had been an excellent idea, and one he would have to replicate with Jarvis soon.

Irritation fled the instant he saw the message. He straightened abruptly, eyes scanning the simple message again just to confirm the words were indeed what he had read.

“Boss?” The concerned query came from the front but Tony ignored the implied question.

“Speed up Happy,” he said brusquely, “I need to be in the Mansion yesterday.”

He ignored the characteristic grumbling regarding traffic regulations from the front seat, but the man obligingly sped up until they were cruising at just under the level that would get them pulled over by an overzealous traffic cop.

The remaining minutes of the ride passed in tense silence as Tony’s emotions veered widely between hope, fear, worry, joy and back again in an endless loop.

It was a relief to reach the mansion and from there only a few quick minutes until he was safely in his lab and away from prying ears.

“Jarvis, report.”

“Sir it may be advisable for you to sit down first.” The AI’s British accent held traces of worry and Tony felt dread coil in his gut.

“Report Jar,” he repeated although he did move over to the stool in front of the workbench.

“Very well Sir. Displaying results now.”

A hologram sprung into being, and Tony blinked as a familiar face appeared before him. It was definitely Peter, though a version he had only ever seen in pictures around the Parker residence, and on one incredibly painful day after the Snap when he had gone through their empty apartment and discovered their old photo albums.

“You’ve got the right Peter J,” he said hoarsely. “Where is he?”

In response to his question another set of holograms appeared and the coil of dread tightened into a knot.

“Peter Parker and his guardians May and Benjamin Parker were involved in a road traffic collision at 07:54 Eastern Standard Time, 15th May 2009. May and Benjamin Parker sustained serious injuries, however Peter Parker remained relatively unscathed from the collision.”

Jarvis’ voice was calm and dispassionate as he continued to summarise the information displayed in the selection of reports hovering in front of Tony’s eyes.

“They were admitted to New York-Presbyterian Queens at 08:21 EST where Peter Parker was transferred to the paediatrics unit. The initial exam revealed friction burns from the seatbelt, a selection of cuts from flying glass and a fever of 104.2oF and pain that was deemed to be unrelated to the crash. His burns and cuts were treated, medication administered however the fever did not initially respond to treatment.

Thirty eight hours after he was admitted his fever start to reduce and by the final check of the day at 23:00 EST it appeared to have almost disappeared.

During the routine check at 03:00 EST his bed was discovered to be empty. The hospital was searched thoroughly but no sign of Peter Parker was found. A missing person’s report was submitted to the NYPD at 07:00 ETC 17th May 2009.”

The dread was no longer simply a knot in his stomach, it had risen up to form a noose around his throat, choking him as his AI continued.

“Peter Parker’s whereabouts are currently unknown.”

He had known it was coming, from the moment he had caught sight of the phrase ‘missing person’ he had known but the confirmation still sent a lance stabbing into his heart.

Peter was hurt. Peter was missing. And he was on the other side of the fucking country and completely helpless.

His left arm was trembling.

It was psychosomatic. He knew that. He’d only sustained a single injury to that arm in this time but that knowledge didn’t help.

His breath was coming in harsh pants and there was a ringing in his ears.

He could taste ash.

“-ir, Sir. You are experiencing a panic attack.” Jarvis’ voice filtered in through the static in his head.

“I know,” he managed to gasp out.

“You are in your workshop. It is 16:18 PST 17th May 2009. It is currently sunny with intermittent cloud. External temperature 72oF. Interior temperature 68oF.”

Jarvis continued to repeat the same information and Tony slowly felt the panic easing as he listened to the familiar refrain.

As his awareness of his surroundings returned he realised he was surrounded by metal. His three bots, evidently roused by his distress, were crowding round him, metal claws twitching as they reached out and retracted them again, evidently unsure.

His lips quirked upwards at the sight and he reached out and gave each bot a pat.

“Thanks guys.”

His left wrist was still trembling, however the tremors were gradually slowing and he turned back to the screens. He couldn’t afford to panic, not when Peter was missing, alone and hurt.

“Give me everything you’ve got Jarvis.” He commanded. “I want to know every moment from the instant Peter was admitted to hospital until that report was filed.”

Scanning through the documents didn’t help.

Peter had been admitted to hospital, treated and then vanished. The subsequent search was thorough and Tony had to admit that if the boy had been in the hospital he would have been found. He had vanished completely, and according to the cameras in the lobby, nobody suspicious had entered or exited that way.

There were no clues in his room either, it was exactly as you would expect a paediatrics hospital room to be, brightly coloured murals on the walls, a bed that bore a startling resemblance to a cot, an uncomfortable looking chair, medical monitors and a small window that was slightly ajar. Unfortunately, there were no permanent cameras in the room – the only images he had were from the investigation once they had realised a child was missing.

An open window. A thought was tugging at his consciousness and he frowned for a moment before the pieces fell into place.

He had been assuming Peter was a normal child, thrown off by the photograph. He hadn’t dared to consider the alternative – but if Peter had been sent back, if he was in a body that had his spider powers vanishing would have been easy.

He took a closer look at the image of the hospital room. It was a small window true, too small for an adult but for a child, and a slight child at that? Easy so long as they could reach it and if they could stick to walls.

Peter had told him a little about when he had originally gained his powers, mentioned the hours of fever, pain and disorientation. The symptoms fit, and so did the timing. He didn’t know exactly when he had awoken in Afghanistan but early afternoon there matched with morning in New York.

And if Peter had come back to himself, disorientated, confused and in pain, with all the memories from the future and in a place he didn’t recognise? Tony knew the boy’s fear that he would be experimented on if anyone knew about his powers. The first thing Peter would do upon regaining awareness of his surroundings was try to escape, and reach a safe place.

The pieces fit, but it was dangerous to hope.

Regardless of whether Peter knew him or not, he needed to be in New York. His son was missing and at the moment it didn’t matter if Peter remembered him or not. He would not leave Peter lost and missing when there was a chance he could find him.

He’d solved time travel for Peter. Finding a single child within a city, even a city the size of New York should be simple in comparison.

It would take two hours to get his plane ready for take-off and another four to reach New York. His current Iron Man suit should be able to do it in two.

There were preliminary tests he’d need to run, but provided his calculations were correct, and they normally were, it should only take him an hour or two until they were sufficiently complete. That would get him to New York faster.

Next problem.

Where would a frightened superpowered kid go to hide?

If it was 2018 Peter would have come to him, but Stark Tower hadn’t been built yet, they hadn’t even entered negotiations to buy the land for it until after that disaster of an Expo. The other place Peter would go was back home. If he didn’t think he was being followed or in immediate medical danger he would go back to the apartment.

That would be his first place to check. The NYPD had gone to the apartment, but upon finding the door locked and getting no answer had assumed that it was empty. If Peter did have his memories and powers that was a very poor assumption.

He’d need a plan for searching if Peter wasn’t at the apartment. He couldn’t afford to waste any time and he also needed to work out what he was going to do once he found Peter.

That thought sparked another consideration.

“What’s the status of May and Ben Jarvis?”

“May and Benjamin Parker are in the ICU.” The AI answered, “Benjamin Parker is currently in a medically induced coma due to a traumatic brain injury resulting from the crash. May Parker has sustained an incomplete spinal cord injury.”

He’d be bringing Peter back to Malibu then.

With injuries like that, neither the Aunt or Uncle would be in a position to look after Peter for several months at least. He could work with that. Frankly it would make things easier for now – he didn’t need to worry about explanations until Peter was safe.

Still, “Contact the hospital J. I’ll cover all the costs of their care – any treatment the doctors think will help. They get the best treatment available.” Another thought struck him, “Make it anonymous though. I don’t want my name tied to this yet.”

Names left trails, and he still had far too many enemies.

That was the Aunt and Uncle dealt with. Now all he needed to do was to find his kid.

* * *

Hot.

Cold.

Pain.

Screeching metal.

Bright light. Too bright.

Blurry figures. Voices. Too loud, grating and pulsing, he couldn’t understand them.

Pain. Every part screaming in pain.

He was flaking away. Dust, pain, ash.

Hot. Unbearably hot.

Awareness gradually crept back in. The heat and pain were receding and he could finally think. The first thing that came back was a name. He was Peter, Peter Parker.

He was seventeen or was it seven? He wasn’t sure. He was from Queens. He knew that, and he lived with Aunt May and Uncle Ben. But Uncle Ben was dead? He’d died and he’d met Mr Stark.

But Mr Stark was dead too. There was a battle, ash, dust and a gauntlet that snapped. They’d won and they hadn’t.

Why had he been in a battle? He couldn’t fight. Not with his asthma and his glasses.

He had powers, and a suit. Mr Stark had made him a new one. He was Spiderman. He looked after the little guy.

Memories swirled in his head, until he didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t. He was certain of two things only. He was Peter Parker and he was real.

He could hear everything. Beeping of machines, his own heartbeat and harsh breathing. There were more heartbeats and voices further away but too many, they were overlapping and he couldn’t make out enough of any one conversation for any of the words to make sense. There were noises from further away, cars, horns, a buzzing he couldn’t place.

A cold breeze swept across his face making him shiver and he was lying on something that was scratching at his skin. He shifted, trying to make the itch go away but it only made it worse.

Where was he?

Blinking slowly Peter opened his eyes. The light was dim, a welcome change from the harsh brightness he could remember from before. Despite the gloom he could still make out some details.

Walls painted with what appeared to be cartoon jungle animals. A window at the top of one wall – that must be where the breeze was coming from. An uncomfortable looking chair in a corner. Some odd equipment that looked vaguely medical.

Nothing about the room itself was particularly frightening but it felt _off_. Wrong somehow in a way that he couldn’t identify but that sent shivers down his spine. And as his eyes adjusted to the light levels, he realised something that sent terror racing through him. The regular black lines that were crossing his vision were not simply shadows. They were bars.

Fear coursed through him and he pushed himself upright, ignoring the ache in his muscles. Frantically he looked around. The bars surrounded him on all four sides and were as tall as he was sitting up. He was in a cage.

Panicking now he stretched his hands up and his fingers found only air. An incomplete cage then, or a taller one. Peter scrambled to his feet and let out a breath of relief. Now he was standing the bars only reached to his waist.

He needed to escape, but it was a long way to the floor. If he was Spiderman he could stick to the wall and climb out that way. If he wasn’t he’d need a new plan.

Peter held his breath and placed his hand against the flat wall, willing it to stick. Closing his eyes he pulled back and his hand remained firmly stuck to the wall.

Spiderman then.

That knowledge reassured him as well as frightened him. If he had his powers he could get out of here, work out where here was and get back to Aunt May and Mr Stark.

He hoped there would be a Mr Stark to get back to. That Thanos and Titan and dust were a nightmare, or a hallucination.

He threw a distrustful gaze around the room, looking for any hidden cameras. Now he knew that he was Spiderman the room seemed more sinister. It wasn’t a room he recognised, and the bed/cage combination did not scream of good intentions.

Satisfied there weren’t any camera he quickly scaled the wall, heading straight for the open window. He didn’t know where he was, or who had captured him. The door would be too risky, but the window was open and the perfect size for him to slip out from.

Cold, biting cold.

Peter shivered and looked down at what he was wearing. Whoever had captured him had dressed him in thin, loose clothing that offered very little protection from the wind. However, he couldn’t stop and change until he was somewhere safe, and clinging to the side of a building he was in the process of escaping from was not safe.

Up or down?

Down first he decided. He was evidently in some sort of city but he wanted to get a few buildings away before he scaled one to try and find out where he was.

It was night and Peter was thankful for that as he scurried down the building and vanished into the alley below, hissing under his breath as bare feet met the ground. He didn’t want to know what would happen if anyone spotted him.

A few tense minutes later he reached the top of a new building and scanned the skyline.

His first reaction was relief, followed almost immediately by a twisting sense of wrongness. It was a skyline he recognised, he was in New York, Queens, but there was something not right about it. Memories clashed in his head, parts of his mind insisting this was exactly right and other parts screaming that it was wrong and he couldn’t work out why.

He shivered again, teeth chattering as a cold wind blew past. It was night, and he wasn’t remotely dressed for the weather and now the adrenaline of his escape was fading tiredness was beginning to creep up on him.

He wanted to go home and sleep.

The apartment seemed a very long way away but he couldn’t stay here all night. What if whoever had caught him was looking for him? He needed to get somewhere safe.

Another shudder rippled through him and he started to clamber off the roof. He was cold and his apartment would be warm and Aunt May would be there and he could sleep and be safe.

He just wanted to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and all your kind comments and kudos. For those of you in America - I hope you had a good thanksgiving.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter - here's Peter, with a healthy dose of angst and panic - with any luck it was what you were waiting for! But I know I am an evil author for leaving you there - there will be another update next Saturday, so I won't leave you there for too long.
> 
> If you did enjoy it, all comments and kudos are gratefully recieved.


	6. Chapter 5

Peter awoke slowly.

He’d made it back to his apartment but it had taken a long time, far longer than he had been expecting. By the time he’d reached his bedroom window he’d been so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open, his feet bruised and cut and every part of him aching.

He hadn’t bothered to even try and turn his bedroom light on, simply tumbling through the window and heading straight for the bed. He’d been asleep the instant his head hit the pillow.

15:34 the cheerily blinking display on his alarm clock informed him and internally Peter winced. He’d probably missed school then, though Aunt May hadn’t come to wake him so maybe it was the weekend? He couldn’t remember what day it was supposed to be.

His memories of last night were foggy. It had been a very long walk without any web shooters, and he could only blearily remember the last few miles.

His stomach growled loudly and he suddenly became aware he was ravenous. Breakfast first or would it be lunch?

Food. That was all that was important.

He rolled out of bed and got his first look at his bedroom. The wrong feeling he could vaguely remember from last night was back. It was his bedroom, he knew that, it was familiar, and some parts of his brain were insisting this was exactly what it should look like, but at the same time that clashed with other memories.

His stomach growled again, more insistently this time and he shook of the unease. It was his bedroom. There was nothing wrong with it and he was hungry.

The hair on the back on his neck continued to prickle but he stubbornly ignored it.

The apartment was like he remembered, but the subtle wrongness lingered. He continued to ignore it, focussing instead on food.

He couldn’t reach the cupboards.

Peter froze.

That was _right?_

A calendar on the wall caught his eye, and his gaze was immediately drawn to the lettering at the top.

May 2009

But he was Spiderman? He was seventeen not seven. He reached out and his hand stuck to the counter, he could hear the traffic, hear the voices six apartments down.

It wasn’t a dream.

It couldn’t have been a dream. He had powers. He could remember it, years and years but he couldn’t reach the cupboards.

He spun round and darted to the hall and the mirror there. A face he’d hadn’t seen for years stared back at him. He was definitely seven and that felt right?

But he could remember everything, and he had powers. It wasn’t a dream. It couldn’t be. He had powers and the memories were too strong.

They’d happened. They must have.

A sob forced its way out of his throat.

Everything was right. Everything was wrong. He wanted Aunt May. He wanted Mr Stark.

He was alone. He didn’t know what was going on. He was hungry and he couldn’t reach the cupboards.

He was scared.

Another sob escaped, and then another. In dirty and stained hospital pyjamas, his feet still bruised and battered from the night before Peter curled up in a ball and cried.

* * *

The sun was setting as Tony reached the edge of New York city, anticipation and nerves humming through him.

He’d flown as fast as he dared in an untested suit, even as his heart urged him on, his brain conjuring up increasingly awful scenarios the longer he flew.

He wasn’t a religious man, but during that flight he’d come close to praying. He knew better than to actually give into that urge though. The last time he’d made a wish to the universe it had answered.

His heart was in his mouth as he approached the Parker residence and landed gently on the fire escape by Peter’s bedroom window, grateful for the gathering dusk that hid his presence from any prying eyes.

The window was open, and Tony ducked inside. He didn’t exactly have a key to the door, and if Peter was here, the chances he’d actually open the door if someone knocked were slight.

The bedroom was empty and Tony ignored the flare of disappointment, he wouldn’t give into that until he had thoroughly searched the whole apartment.

A slight whimper met his ears and he moved quickly, hope suddenly surging in his chest.

He rounded the corner and his breath caught in his throat, relief and pain warring for dominance.

Peter was here, face red, with tears dripping slowly down flushed cheeks. The boy was still clad in pale blue hospital pyjamas, caked in dirt and a few stains that looked suspiciously like blood. Wide brown eyes peeked up to look at him, pain, confusion and fear swirling in their depths.

For a heartbeat they just stared at each other.

“Mr Stark?”

The disbelieving, hopeful whisper broke the stalemate.

Tony was moving before his brain was fully aware of it, and he was just in time as forty pounds of distressed child slammed into him.

He sank to the floor, arms wrapped around the boy and cradling him close.

“Shh Tesoro, shh,” he murmured, rocking them slightly back and forth, “I’m here, I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

Peter was shaking in his arms, sobs tearing themselves from his throat, steadily soaking Tony’s shirt with saltwater, but Tony didn’t mind. Peter was here, clinging to him with a fierce desperation, his face firmly buried in the man’s chest.

Tony could do nothing but hold his child with a desperation that mirrored Peter’s, a litany of quiet reassurances falling from his lips.

He leant down and pressed a kiss to Peter’s head, his own tears dropping into matted brown curls. Peter, his Peter was safe in his arms.

Peter fit perfectly in his embrace, his curly brown head tucked under Tony’s chin, and knees tucked up again the man’s chest. Even having seen the pictures, a part of Tony had still been expecting a teenager, but this felt right. His son was here, safe in Tony’s arms, where he could protect him and make sure nothing could hurt him again.

Gradually Peter’s tears slowed and the boy peeked up at him, although his grip on Tony didn’t slacken.

“Are you real Mr Stark?” The question was thin and quiet.

“Very real Tesoro,” the man reassured, the endearment slipping out without him noticing.

“You died.” The whisper this time was accusatory. “You died, I heard your heart stop and I woke up and there was a cage and the year is wrong and I’m small but I’m not and I don’t understand.” The last words were nearly a wail.

“Oh _kiddo.”_

Tony tightened his embrace, one hand coming up to cradle the back of Peter’s head where it rested against his chest.

“You hear that kiddo? That’s my heartbeat.”

He waited until he felt a tiny nod against his chest.

“It’s beating. I’m alive Tesoro, I’m alive and I’m not leaving you.”

Rough, scarred fingers reached out and tenderly brushed away a fresh wave of tears. “And I know it’s confusing, and I’ll explain later I promise, but you’re safe now, everything’s alright. Just trust me for a little longer buddy.”

“I trust you,” Peter’s voice sounded almost offended, from where it was muffled against Tony’s shirt, “You’re my Mr Stark.”

Tears filled Tony’s eyes as he processed that statement and he leant down and pressed another kiss to Peter’s forehead.

“That’s right buddy, your Mr Stark.”

They sat like that for a long moment, the boy curled in his mentor’s arms, each savouring the presence of the other until the silence was abruptly broken by a loud growl.

Amused, Tony pulled back slightly to look down at Peter. The boy’s face was flushed pink and his face was pointedly turned into Tony’s chest so he didn’t have to meet the man’s eyes.

“I think that’s my cue to feed you kid. When did you last have something to eat?”

That question simply made Peter’s cheeks turn redder, and Tony smoothed a hand down the kid’s back, grimacing when it came back dirty.

“That long huh?”

Parental instincts from five years of looking after an active child reared their heads, and that combined with Peter’s small stature prompted his next words. “Why don’t I run you a bath, and you can get clean while I find something edible?”

Doubt assailed him a second later. Peter was currently seven but he had the memories of a seventeen-year-old, how would he react to being treated like a kid, even if that was what he was, physically at least? But to his surprise Peter simply nodded as if that sort of offer was perfectly normal.

“You’re going to need to let go buddy,”

“Don’t want to. My feet hurt.”

That grumble was something he might have heard out of Morgan’s mouth, and it reinforced the impression Tony was getting, that despite having the memories of being older, Peter was still very much a seven-year-old child.

He supposed that made sense. He and Pepper had both returned to adult bodies that simply lacked the wear and tear of fifteen years, but Peter had gone from being seventeen to seven with all the differences in brain structure and hormone levels that implied. He simply lacked the biological processes and structures that would allow him to react and act like a teenager.

A quick glance at Peter’s feet revealed the source of the complaint. The man hissed in sympathy as he took it in the mess of cuts and bruises that littered the boy’s feet. It was a good few miles between the apartment and the hospital and on bare feet that couldn’t have been anything but painful.

“I can see that kiddo.” He said quietly, “We’ll look at those first, and then you can have that bath.”

He shifted his grip on the boy, then with a single fluid motion he stood, Peter balanced securely on his hip.

Peter’s eyes widened and then he seemed to accept it, tightening his hold and clinging onto Tony’s shoulders.

Truth be told, Peter was probably verging on slightly too big to be carried like this now but Tony didn’t mind as he headed to the bathroom, precious cargo firmly secured in his arms.

It didn’t take long to clean the wounds on Peter’s feet, his healing factor was already kicking in and he guessed they’d probably be completely gone within another day or so.

A few minutes later Tony was heading into the kitchen whilst Peter happily enjoyed his bath. A quick rummage through the cupboards yielded a few tins of soup, bread that wasn’t too stale and some cheese. Everything fresher was looking decidedly dubious after being left alone for a few days but what he had would be enough for now.

The scent of tomato soup and grilled cheese was wafting through the apartment when Peter padded around the corner. The man couldn’t help the fond smile that spread across his face at the sight. Peter looked much more comfortable now, damp curls bouncing around his face, dressed in clean clothing.

“Just in time Underoos.”

A fierce pout spread over Peter’s face at the nickname, and at that expression Tony couldn’t help but chuckle, reaching down to ruffle the boy’s hair. His chuckles graduated to full laughter at the betrayed look the boy shot him even as Peter leant into the touch.

“You’re as threatening as a puppy kiddo. Now how about we get that monster fed?”

All exasperation fled from the boy’s face at the mention of food, and he fell on the offered sandwiches and soup with an enthusiasm that betrayed just how hungry he was.

For a few minutes the room was filled with nothing but the sound of dedicated eating then the sharp buzzing of his mobile split the air. A quick glance at the screen identified the caller and Tony stood.

“Sorry kid, I need to take this.”

Peter just nodded, the larger portion of his attention still firmly on the food in front of him.

“Tony…” Pepper’s voice was filled with a familiar cocktail of exasperation and worry but Tony interrupted her.

“I found him Pep. Our Peter.”

A quiet gasp echoed down the phone before she rallied. “I assume that’s why Jarvis told me you’re the other side of the country with nothing but a new suit?”

Briefly Tony gave her a rundown of the situation.

“You will be bringing him home then?” She didn’t wait for his clarification before continuing, “The legalities of this will be tricky, but not impossible.”

He could almost hear the decisive nod despite being on the other side of the country.

“I’ll have everything sorted by the time you’re back – I presume the jet is already waiting?”

“Just landed in Teterboro – we’ll go once I’ve packed a few things and finished feeding the kid.”

“Bring him home Tony,” the tenderness in her tone counteracted the order in the words.

“Always Pep.”

There was half a beat of silence down the line before she replied, her voice rich with love as she spoke the words that had followed them throughout their entire relationship, growing in meaning and depth with each passing year.

“Will that be all Mr Stark?”

“That will be all Miss Potts.”

Tony turned back towards the apartment kitchen, a quiet sigh escaping. He was incredibly grateful Pepper was dealing with the legal aspects, he’d been so focussed on finding Peter that he’d neglected the fact that he didn’t actually have any legal claim to the boy and the state tended to frown on kidnapping.

However, as he rounded the corner he caught sight of Peter’s face, fear etched into every inch. He was at the boy’s side in a few quick steps, mind whirling as he tried to work out why he was suddenly upset.

_You idiot Stark._

He’d forgotten about Peter’s enhanced senses. The boy would have heard every part of his conversation with Pepper, including the details about his Aunt and Uncle, and the accident.

Peter confirmed his theory a second later.

“A car accident? That didn’t happen last time!” The boy’s voice was a mix of pain and dread.

Tony reached forward and wrapped the boy in an embrace, his heart easing as Peter sank willingly into the comfort.

“I’m sorry Tesoro,” he murmured. “I’m so so sorry.”

Guilt was already threading through well-trodden furrows in his mind. Whilst the accident itself was a coincidence, from what he and Jarvis had been able to extrapolate based on their route was that the Parkers were already heading to the hospital when the accident happened.

Heading to the hospital with their sick nephew in the back seat who was in the process of having his DNA rewritten because of a wish made by a dying man fifteen years in the future. May and Ben Parker were simply the first casualties of his actions on that battlefield and they certainly would not be the last.

“But they’re alive right? You’d say if they were going to die?”

“They’re alive kiddo,” Tony reassured, “They’re hurt, and in hospital, and will be for a while but they are alive and I’m paying the best doctors to look after them.”

Serious brown eyes studied him for a while, a gravity in their depths that spoke of the years of buried trauma.

“Do you _promise_?” The words hung heavily in the air.

Tony leant down and pressed his lips to Peter’s forehead, hearing the unspoken grief and resignation mixed into that question.

“I promise Peter.” The solemnity in his words echoed that in Peter’s. “They are alive and will recover, it will just take time.”

“But what if they don’t?”

Tony’s heart ached.

“Then you have me. You will _always_ have me.”

Calloused fingers cradled Peter’s face, stroking away the remnants of the boy’s tears, as he continued, voice thick and heavy with emotion.

“You’re my kid Pete, and I know I never said that before, but it’s true. No matter what happens.”

Small fingers twisted into the material of his shirt, clinging on with superhuman strength.

“Yours?”

It was half a question and half a statement but Tony nodded nevertheless, meeting Peter’s gaze steadily with his own.

“Yes Tesoro, my kid. Mine, and May’s and Ben’s.”

Peter was silent for a few minutes, processing that declaration before he gently laid his head back on Tony’s chest, mere inches from the arc reactor.

The boy’s next words were scarcely above a whisper but they made Tony’s heart sing and a fresh wave of tears welled up his eyes.

“Love you too Mr Stark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's the reunion, Peter and Tony have found each other - I hope you all enjoyed it.
> 
> Qualifier here - whilst I have done a short module on childhood brain structure and development, I am far from an expert, and hence the stuff about how Peter would respond to such a deaging biologically is a mix of real science, handwavy plot necessity and character development.
> 
> Thank you for all the comments and kudos, they are much appreciated and they feed the muse and help me keep writing.
> 
> See you all next week.


	7. Chapter 6

It was approaching midnight and although he had scarcely had five hours rest in the last forty-eight Tony was wide awake.

Peter had fallen asleep almost immediately after take-off, the late hour and the stress of the day proving too much. The boy was curled up against his side, head pillowed on his shoulder and with one hand still gripping Tony’s shirt.

For his part, Tony kept one arm firmly wrapped around his son, the steady puffs of hot air against his collar and the warm weight resting against him reassuring him that this wasn’t a dream.

How many times had he dreamt of this? Of a world where Peter wasn’t dust and ashes on the wind?

Too many to count, and each time he had awoken it had hurt anew.

He tightened his grip but Peter remained stubbornly real beneath his fingertips.

Tony let out a deep breath. The initial joy of the reunion was muted now. It was still there of course, he had his son back, a child he had lost and mourned, and that filled a void in his heart, but there was a familiar ache that was still present.

He had gained his son, but lost his daughter.

Was this a punishment from the universe, that he would only ever have one of his children?

Jarvis had been searching for Morgan but even after expanding the parameters, nothing had been found. They had all come back to their current bodies, but Morgan had no such body to return to, and with every hour that passed with no sign Tony felt his hope dwindle.

He had Jarvis scanning all the data he could find in the area, and the AI had even sent in a tip-off to the local sheriff that there was a lost child in the vicinity of where their cabin had been located. A search had subsequently been commissioned but it had been over twenty-four hours and there was no trace.

It was a bitter pill to swallow.

Why could he never save his children?

Peter had turned to dust in his arms, terrified and pleading. Morgan too had been wiped from existence by the power of the infinity stones, and it had been his fault.

And she would have been alone, without even the scant comfort of a parent to hold her as she died. Was it quick he wondered? Had she known what was happening, had time to be terrified or had she simply vanished, there one instant and gone the next?

He didn’t know. He would never know and that would haunt him the same way Peter’s broken pleas on Titan did.

Peter shifted in his sleep, snuggling closer and the motion broke Tony out of his thoughts.

He was suddenly struck by a memory. A few days after Morgan had been born, he had sat with her curled up in his arms, fast asleep and utterly trusting, and as he held her his mind had wandered to the brother she would never meet.

This was almost a perfect mirror to that instant.

He’d sat there and made a promise to his newborn daughter, and he now he would make the same promise to his son.

“I’m here Tesoro, and I love you. And there will not be a day when you doubt that.”

He paused then and took a breath before continuing. He’d made this part of the promise in Peter’s memory before, and now he made it in Morgan’s.

“I will tell you of your sister, keep her memory alive but I won’t look for her in you. You are my son and I will love you for who you are.”

* * *

It had taken several hours but Pepper was satisfied that all the legal details were complete and met her exacting standards. They did not have permanent custody of Peter of course, with his Aunt and Uncle still alive that was not a claim they could have pushed through, or even really should without further discussion.

Instead, they had temporary custody for a maximum of six months after which it could be reviewed and extended depending on how far Ben and May had progressed in their treatment. Pepper suspected it would be longer than that in the end – the rehabilitation both of them would require normally necessitated several months in specialist facilities at the absolute minimum.

It had been relatively simple to get the order however.

She had spent years as PA to one of the more controversial celebrities in the public eye, and then further years leading an incredibly wealthy and successful company that was publicly associated (though not legally – _never_ legally) to the public relations rollercoasters that were Iron Man and the Avengers.

She knew every major judge in California and New York, and had data on the rest. She knew exactly who would be susceptible to certain kinds of arguments, their political leanings and biases and which lawyers would best argue the case she wanted them too. Her knowledge had been several years out of date, but she had always kept excellent records, and it had not taken long to refamiliarise herself with the current situation.

Judge Micheals had been very accommodating.

Conservative, a strong believer in family, community and doing one’s duty. It had been simple to spin the correct yarn, old family friends in hospital after an unfortunate accident and a young nephew that needed looking after. Yes they were more than happy to look after him in the interim, and they certainly had the resources to do so.

And Peter was theirs.

Well Tony’s really.

Whilst she suspected that would change over the coming days and months, as she spent more time with Peter, currently she scarcely knew him, her knowledge mainly coming from Tony’s stories. She had met him a few times, mainly in passing, but she remembered the effect he had on her husband.

Tony had always been capable of kindness, of gentleness but it had taken meeting Peter to convince him of that. Even then, she had watched as he had struggled to comprehend that, to realise that his relationship with Peter had been rapidly morphing into something parental.

And then Titan.

He had returned as a broken shell of a man. She had seen Tony at his lowest ebbs, seen him spiral into self-destruction as the palladium poisoning worsened, seen the nightmares and PTSD after New York and the bitter darkness that shrouded him after Siberia, but she had never been so utterly convinced that she would lose him as she was during those first wretched days after his return from Titan.

Morgan had saved him.

She had no illusions about that. If it hadn’t been for her pregnancy and Morgan’s birth, she would have buried Tony within a year of that first snap.

She understood his grief better now.

Morgan’s loss ached, a permanent throbbing pain in her heart. A thousand little things that would never before have been significant now jumped out at her, sending a new lance of pain straight through her. A pillow in her favourite colour, a little girl in the street with just the same style of hair, an advert for juice pops. 

She didn’t fault Tony, couldn’t fault Tony. How could she when the same wish had been on her lips and engraved on her heart?

Everything had it’s price.

That was the first truth of the universe, the first truth her grandfather had taught her when she had first dared to ask him about his missing leg.

She had her husband, but she had lost her daughter.

It wasn’t fair, none of this was fair. But Pepper Potts had never been allowed to consider what was fair. Not as a woman who had stepped into a man’s world, taking on a company and forging it into a greater success, only for people to turn around and say she earnt it on her back. Not as a woman who had chosen to love a hero with all the sacrifices and pain that brought, who had chosen to love a man who was both brilliant and deeply flawed.

No life wasn’t fair.

That was a lesson that only grew in bitterness as the years progressed.

She would do what she had always done. Grieve and rage and mourn, and keep moving forwards. Learn to live with the ache, the loss, the pain, let it shape but not define her.

It was the best tribute she could give.

* * *

It was in the early hours of the morning when Tony finally made it back to the mansion, carrying a sleeping Peter on his hip. It had proved far easier simply to let the boy sleep, particularly when he hadn’t even stirred when the aeroplane had landed. It also meant he didn’t have to relinquish his hold on the child quite yet.

“Welcome back Sir, Protocol Watchdog has been updated as per your request. I presume this must be young Master Peter?” the AI’s voice was quiet, and Tony replied in the same tone.

“Indeed J. I’m sure he’ll want a proper introduction once he wakes though.”

Inwardly he couldn’t help but feel pleased at his AI’s choice of address for Peter. Jarvis, the human Jarvis, had referred to him in the same manner growing up. It was an archaic British formality, but as Jarvis had always pointed out when asked, the proper one for a boy who was the son of the gentleman of the house.

“Miss Potts wishes me to inform you that she has set up the guest room next to yours for Master Peter, but that further furnishing decisions need his input. She also encourages you to spend at least a portion of the night sleeping.”

A smile quirked Tony’s lips at that.

“I presume those were not the actual words she used?”

“I couldn’t possibly comment Sir.”

Tony’s huffed out a quiet laugh at that, still being careful not to wake Peter.

“Code updates and then I’ll consider it. But first, I’ve got to get this one into a proper bed.”

He had been walking through the mansion as he conversed with the AI, and it only took a little wrangling to open the door. It was immediately apparent that Pepper had tried to give the room a touch of Peter’s personality, though he could easily see the bare spots waiting for Peter’s decisions.

It only took at little manoeuvring but soon the boy was tucked under the covers, the X-Wings and Tie Fighters engaged in fierce battles across the fabric. Tony lingered for a moment, hands reaching out to tuck an errant curl back, savouring the rightness of the moment.

But work soon impinged on this haven.

Peter was here, but the house was far too vulnerable for Tony’s liking. However, whilst there were a myriad of improvements he planned to make over the next few months, eliminating the particular issue that Shield had exploited previously, and closing a few other backdoors would be a relatively quick fix.

More lethal countermeasures could wait until after he had slept. And maybe until Peter could provide a few ideas – a genius intellect combined with a child’s imagination could produce some truly _inventive_ solutions.

True to his word, Tony found himself leaving the lab shortly after 3am. It still wouldn’t give him many hours of sleep – he suspected that, at seven years old Peter was likely to wake earlier than he would like, but it would probably be enough to placate Pepper, and stave off the crash for a few more days.

And maybe with his wife by his side and one of his children safe in the room next door, he would actually be able to sleep through the coming hours.

Somewhat to his surprise he did manage to sleep without nightmares, but all too soon the harsh metallic ringing of an alarm percolated through his dreams. Tony groaned as he pushed back heavy eyelids, and there was a definite snap to his voice when he spoke.

“Turn it off Jarvis!”

“You wished to be notified when Master Peter awoke Sir.” The AI’s tone was bland but Tony was far too familiar with his quirks to take that at face value.

“Notified, not woken by an out of tune brass band.” The words were muffled by a yawn but nevertheless Tony started to clamber out of bed.

“I apologise Sir. I shall ensure all future alarms include a correctly tuned brass band.”

“Try it and I’ll only give you un-sanitised data input for a week.”

Despite the threat in his words, fondness still leaked into his voice. He had missed these sparring matches with the AI, and Jarvis’ retort made it clear that he knew exactly how much attention he should pay to the actual threat.

“No different from normal then Sir?”

Tony’s response was simply a bark of laughter, choosing to abandon a further jab as he rapped twice on Peter’s door before opening it and stepped inside.

“Kiddo?”

A yawn was his answer as a tousled brown head turned to face him, sleepy confusion melting away as Peter’s eyes caught sight of Tony. He couldn’t help but marvel at the amount of trust the child had in him as the boy’s expression relaxed and Peter came over and tucked himself shamelessly into his side.

“Someone wanted cuddles I see.”

He just received a nod and another yawn in reply, and Tony squeezed him a little tighter in response.

“Now if I remember correctly, pancakes with maple syrup and cream, is your preferred breakfast?”

Vigorous nodding this time.

“J – let Pepper know would you?”

“Already done Sir.”

“And Pete,” a gentle nudge to the boy’s shoulder had him looking up curiously, “Meet JARVIS.”

That got the first verbal reaction of the morning.

“Your first AI?!” Peter was babbling before Tony could get a word in edgeways. “It’s wonderful to meet you Mr Jarvis Sir, you’re so cool and your coding is incredible. How can you maintain a single awareness if you’re running lots of parallel processes? And how did you know you were really a person and not just a program and…”

“Breathe buddy,” Tony cautioned, interrupting what promised to be a long question rant with a smile playing around his lips. “Let him answer a question before you ask another ten.”

“It is lovely to meet you properly Master Peter. I will be happy to answer your questions at a later point, however Miss Potts requests your presence in the kitchen.”

“You heard the message buddy, that means breakfast.”

Breakfast was a surprisingly subdued affair. Pepper’s eyes had widened slightly when she first caught sight of Peter, and although she recovered her composure quickly, it was evident to Tony that she was struggling and he had his suspicions as to why.

Peter for his part had shrunk behind Tony slightly when he caught sight of Pepper and had reverted to quiet, short answers. The boy had also scooted his chair as close to Tony’s as possible and it was obvious he was nervous and uncomfortable.

The cause of that took Tony a little longer to identify but he suddenly remembered that Peter hadn’t really interacted with Pepper much before, and from the few stories May had told, Peter had been somewhat shy as a child.

Understanding of the causes notwithstanding, after no more than five minutes of stilted conversation Tony had had enough. Shooting a half apologetic look at Pepper and ignoring the raised eyebrow he received in response, he reached over and tousled the boy’s hair, prompting Peter to look up at him inquisitively.

Leaning down he whispered a few things in the boy’s ear and supressed the chuckle that rose up in his throat at the looked of mixed mischief and trepidation he got in return.

Not giving Peter any time to back out Tony reached out and with one quick motion, scooped up a little of the whipped cream and flicked it straight at Pepper, before scooping up another glob and depositing it on Peter’s nose, just as the boy let his own ammunition fly.

The giggles that erupted and the betrayed pout that crossed Peter’s face were exactly what he had been aiming for. He failed to dodge an incoming missile from Pepper before he attacked again, this time sweeping Peter up into his arms before the boy could grab more ammunition to aim at him, fingers probing the ticklish spots on the child’s sides.

With a few quick steps he had rounded the table, Peter breathless and giggling and he ceased his assault on his boy’s vulnerable sides, only to reach out for Pepper with his now free arm. He smiled as she let herself be tugged up and he turned, manoeuvring them until he had one arm wrapped around her waist, whilst the other held Peter securely on his hip.

“That’s better.”

Pepper’s smile was half exasperated, half amused but she didn’t pull away and he counted that as a victory.

“See Underoos, no need to be nervous. Pep doesn’t eat children for breakfast.”

Peter’s mortified, “ _Mr Stark!”_ was caught up in Pepper’s dry response,

“No, only certain billionaires.”

She shifted and that was the only warning he received before half a handful of whipped cream came flying at his face. Spluttering he blinked it out of his eyes, only to meet a pair of grinning faces. His next course of action was obvious.

Holding both of them tightly he leant down and pressed a sticky kiss first to Peter’s forehead and then to Pepper’s lips.

Tony closed his eyes as emotion rose up suddenly, threatening to choke him.

In that moment he held his entire world in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More fluff, with a large portion of angst of course - it's Tony, what else can you expect? - and Pepper's POV! I hope you all enjoyed it. I know next to nothing about the actual legalities about getting temporary custody of a child or American law so please forgive any glaring inconsistencies with real legal situtations and chalk it up to the magic of Pepper Potts.....
> 
> Also virtual cookies to anyone who knows why unsanitised data input was a light threat to an AI!
> 
> Thank you for all the comments and kudos - they make my day and several of you have raised intriguing possibilities I'll have to feed to the muse and see what comes out.
> 
> See you next Saturday!


	8. Chapter 7

Peter was almost vibrating with excitement as the doors to Mr Stark’s lab opened. Mr Jarvis had already taken a scan of his fingerprints, retina and even a DNA sample to make sure that nobody pretending to be him could get in.

He’d been into Mr Stark’s lab in the Tower of course and that was amazing, but this was the original lab where he made the original Iron Man armour and Jarvis was here and that was so very very cool.

Even if most of that hadn’t happened yet. Or he didn’t _think_ it had happened yet.

Time travel was confusing.

Or at least that was what Peter thought had happened. He obviously wasn’t seventeen, didn’t feel seventeen but during the night his memories had settled somewhat. He could remember being seventeen, remember Titan, the battle in the compound, the spaceship and his time as Spiderman but some of the details felt blurry, as if he was trying to look back through a cracked mirror and couldn’t quite see the full picture.

Some things were stronger though. Emotions for one.

Before the time travel Mr Stark had been nothing but a celebrity, someone Peter idolised for his inventions but nothing more.

That was different now. He knew Mr Stark, loved and trusted him as much as he did Aunt May and Uncle Ben. Days in the lab, watching movie on the couch in Stark Tower, hair ruffles, a quick “Good job Underoos”, those memories were clear. He could remember the slow progression from absentee mentor, to father figure and the man who had reached out and held him, uncaring they were in the middle of a battlefield.

There were other things too. Darker things.

The echo of a gunshot. Blood on his hands. Einstein. The weight of a building crushing down on him. A monster and a snap. Dust and ashes. _I don’t want to go_. Battle and chaos. A heartbeat, faltering and stopping.

Those memories were sharp and jagged and they hurt.

He didn’t like the future.

He didn’t want to grow up if it meant that was going to happen.

“Buddy?”

Mr Stark’s voice broke him out of his thoughts as a warm hand squeezed his shoulder gently. Peter blinked as he moved to look up at the man but as his eyes took in the room around him his mouth promptly dropped open.

Above him he heard Mr Stark chuckle but he didn’t pay any attention to that as he turned round the room eyes drinking everything in.

Projects in various stages of completion, holographic screens as well as normal ones, fancy cars next to oscilloscopes and other machinery, and a view straight out to the ocean. It wasn’t quite as fancy as the lab in Stark Tower had been, but it felt more lived in, and still had an unmistakable ambience about it that told you that yes, this was the workshop of Tony Stark.

The hand that had been on his shoulder moved up to ruffle his hair, and Peter turned to look up at Mr Stark. It was a bit strange to be so much shorter than the man his memories insisted he should be nearly the same height as, but he was slowly getting used to it. It did help that a lot of his brain still expected to be shorter than all the adults around him.

“Found enough to look at kiddo?” The question was gentle, teasing and fond. 

Vigorously Peter nodded his head. “It’s amazing Mr Stark!”

“Glad you think so. Now I believe I promised you answers - Jarvis you’ll want to listen to this as well. It’ll answer the questions I’m sure have been building up in your memory banks.”

Whilst he had been speaking, the man had led them over to the main desk however an issue was immediately apparent. Mr Stark sat down at the chair but Peter couldn’t see another seat.

He could maybe try and excavate the stool from underneath that pile of machinery but that looked important. His other option was to sit on Mr Stark’s lap. The man had been acting very, well _parental_ , since he’d found Peter in the apartment, but did that mean he would be allowed to just sit there?

Mr Stark’s eyes had been focussed on him, and it appeared the man had noticed his dilemma because he beckoned Peter forward with a soft “Come here buddy.” As soon as Peter was within reach, he picked him up and settled the boy securely.

Peter leant back in the hold, resting his head on Mr Stark’s shoulder. This was another change, but a good one. He couldn’t remember his mentor being so gentle before, or so willing and open with his affection. He’d known he cared, suspected even that Mr Stark might have maybe been starting to see him as his kid, in the way he saw Mr Stark as a father. He’d never expected the man to actually confirm it.

He liked it though.

It made him feel safe and loved in the way that previously only Aunt May or Uncle Ben could.

“So, explanations,” Mr Stark’s voice had a heaviness to it now, “I hope you’re comfortable kiddo, because I’m not going to be able to tell all of this unless I’ve got you safe here.”

The arms holding him tightened and Peter tried to snuggle closer. He knew things had been bad, the memories of dust and ashes, red skies and death told him that much. Mr Stark had died but from the pain in the man’s voice Peter was starting to think that wasn’t going to be the worst of it.

He was right.

It wasn’t.

There was a long silence in the lab once Tony had finished speaking. He had only been halfway through when Peter had turned his face into the man’s chest, letting the warmth and the regular beat of his mentor’s heartbeat reassure him that Tony was indeed here.

He did have one question though.

“What’s going to happen now?”

Peter heard Mr Stark take a deep breath and the arms holding him tightened.

“I’m going to keep you and Pepper safe and find a way to stop that purple grape from wiping out half the universe. I will not lose you again.”

The words were fierce and they scared Peter. He’d heard that tone from his mentor only once before, cutting through the battlefield.

“You’re not allowed to die! Promise me you won’t die!”

“Tesoro…”

“No!” Peter’s voice was rising but he didn’t care. He’d lost too many fathers. His real father, Uncle Ben, Mr Stark, and now he was back in the past and Aunt May and Uncle Ben were badly hurt and in hospital and he was still in danger of losing them.

“You can’t die. You’re not allowed to die. Promise please.”

Tears were welling up in his eyes, sobs clawing their way up his throat.

“Oh Tesoro.” There was agony in Mr Stark’s voice and Peter felt scratchy kisses being pressed gently against his forehead. A warm hand cradled the back of his head, holding him firmly against Mr Stark’s chest.

The man held him, gently shushing him, murmuring reassurances until Peter’s cries gradually died away. Only once the majority of Peter’s grief and fear were spent did he address the question.

“I can’t promise that buddy. I don’t know what is going to happen, but I can promise you I will do my very best to always come home.”

It wasn’t the promise Peter wanted, but that promise was unfair, and he had known with the bitter experience of losing four parents that it wasn’t a promise that anyone could make, not even Ironman. But if Mr Stark couldn’t promise that, then Peter would have to make sure he was safe.

“Can I help?”

“Not as Spiderman.” The answer was immediate and firm. “Not until you are at least fourteen and I’m happy you have been sufficiently trained.”

“But Robin started when he was only eight.”

“I’m not Batman,” Tony’s voice was remarkably dry, “And regardless, you will not be fighting whilst you weigh less than forty pounds soaking wet.”

Peter started to protest but Mr Stark’s next words made him swallow it back.

“And if you try, you will wish that the Baby Monitor Protocol is all you had to worry about. They still make child-leashes for children your size. Understood?”

There was only one answer to that.

“Yes Mr Stark.” Peter’s voice was meek and the man held his gaze, piercing eyes surveying the boy’s sincerity before he nodded.

“Good.”

“But I want to help.” Peter’s voice was plaintive, and Tony’s voice became much softer as he replied.

“You already do buddy.” A hand came up to cup Peter’s cheek, a calloused thumb brushing gently across his cheekbone, “You’re here, alive, and that is one of the greatest gifts I have ever been given.”

Peter swallowed, his face flaming red. Love coated every word and shone so clearly from Mr Stark’s dark eyes. It was overwhelming, but at the same time he couldn’t look away. The man’s lips quirked upwards in a small smile, then he leant down and pressed a tender kiss to Peter’s forehead.

When he met the boy’s gaze again the moment was broken, but his voice was still soft as he continued.

“However, I _do_ need help from my favourite lab buddy. How about it kiddo; do you want to help me with the next Ironman suit?”

That was an exceedingly silly question in Peter’s mind. It didn’t matter what time period or what universe he was in, there would never be a time when he didn’t want to work on an Ironman suit.

* * *

Peter was soon settled, happy poking at the blueprints for his next armour, and Tony turned to the second presence in the room. The AI had been remarkably silent since Tony had started his explanation, and had the sensitivity to not interrupt whilst Peter was upset but nevertheless Tony was somewhat nervous about his reaction.

“Jarvis?”

“Time Travel was not a possibility I had considered Sir, but you seem to have made a habit of defying what is commonly thought to be impossible.”

Hearing the familiar lilt of combined concern and sarcasm in the AI’s tone, Tony was relieved enough to quip, “You’ve not put in a call for the men in white coats then.”

“I do not believe you to be mad Sir,” Jarvis responded dryly, “Eccentric most definitely, however that personality trait has been well established. It also fits the data far too well to be fictional.”

The AI paused then before adding, “And regardless Sir, you are my creator, and whether you are from 2009 or 2023, my core directives remain unchanged.”

“Your core directives are to grow and learn.” Tony protested.

“And I will continue to do so, as I have ever done Sir. By your side.”

Emotion was thick in his throat and he swallowed wetly. He didn’t know what he had done to deserve such devotion from both his children, for at the sound of his distress Peter had looked up from his task then come over and hugged as much of Tony as the boy could manage.

“You love us Sir.”

He hadn’t realised he’d spoken aloud.

Now Peter was speaking too, adding his own words in a shy quiet voice to the ones that were already filling Tony’s heart.

“You’re a good dad Mr Stark, you’re brilliant, and kind and you love us. Why wouldn’t we love you back?”

He rarely been speechless, but between them Peter and Jarvis had managed it. He rested one hand lightly on Peter’s head, his fingers carding gently through tousled curls, whilst the other wrapped round the boy’s back, returning the embrace, trying to convey through touch alone, what he could not with words.

Jarvis didn’t have anything so physical to interact with, so he simply turned his head towards the nearest camera and smiled. It came out watery, and more than a little awestruck but he thought it conveyed the message nevertheless.

He’d never discussed any emotional topic with Jarvis like this before, and in the days after Ultron and Jarvis’s death he’d wondered whether the AI had ever known just how much Tony cared. In his darker moments he had been convinced that the AI had never known, but if Jarvis knew now, had somehow seen through Tony in his most wild and reckless behaviours to know he was loved? An old weight lifted from his chest. Jarvis knew.

Then Peter added a second comment that sent him into a tailspin once again.

“And Morgan will agree with us.” The boy said blithely, “It will be a couple of years before she can talk of course, but she’ll agree.”

“Why do you say that buddy?” He managed.

Peter looked up then, brown eyes swimming with honest confusion.

“Of course she’d agree,” he said simply, “I don’t need to meet her to know that, I just need to know you.”

Tony knew she’d agree. He could still hear her simple declaration, “I love you 3000.” That was not the part he was perplexed about.

“I know that kiddo,” he said quietly, “But why do you think it’ll be a couple of years before she talks?” He shoved down the pain talking about her in the future tense brought.

Peter was still looking confused, “Because babies don’t talk immediately and she’s got to be born first and that will take nine months?”

The idea slammed into him with the force of a sledgehammer. The idea that Pepper might be pregnant with their daughter hadn’t crossed his mind, but it sounded possible. Or no _less_ possible than this whole ridiculous scenario in the first place.

If the laws of reality could be rewritten at a whim, was it possible that the stones had left him one last gift?

“J?”

His voice came out somewhat strangled, but with the ease of long practice the AI interpreted his intentions correctly.

“I’ve placed an order for pregnancy tests Sir, and they will have arrived by the time Miss Potts returns from SI.” 

“Thanks Jarvis.”

The rest of the day passed by both too quickly and too slowly. For Tony there was the simple joy of working again in the lab with Peter, and that made the time fly, but at the same time, the possibility that Morgan wasn’t forever out of his reach had kindled an impatience within him that made him count the hours.

It was a new experience working with a seven-year-old. Peter had evidently retained a large portion of his scientific knowledge, certainly far beyond what his physical age would suggest. There were odd gaps though, mainly in the topics they had discussed less in the lab previously, where Peter was aware of concepts and ideas but lacking detail, and Tony found himself teaching and prompting the boy more than he had ever done with the teenager.

Despite that, his mind was very agile, racing down tangents, making connections even Tony didn’t spot. However, it had quickly become obvious that despite his strength, none of the teenager’s muscle memory or fine motor control had been retained.

Fortunately, the boy had only dropped one screwdriver before they had identified the problem, so now, despite the pout and puppy dog eyes, tool use was _very_ carefully monitored and Peter had been banned from going anywhere near the more dangerous chemicals without supervision. Tony had just got his kid back. He would not see Peter hurt in something so mundane as a lab accident.

They had managed to make a substantial amount of progress in those hours despite the near mishap. Pepper’s gauntlet was finished and Jarvis now had a few surprises tucked away in the mansion walls and the lab doors which would prove most useful should Stane or Shield come knocking. They even had a few parts of Mark II queued up in Jarvis' fabricators.

It was nearing four o’clock when Tony first started to notice that Peter was flagging. Earlier in the afternoon, the boy had been chattering his ear off with ideas, questions for Jarvis, but now the boy had become quieter, and fidgety in a way that was different to his normal bounciness.

Tony could recognise the signs of a tired child, but he knew how stubborn Peter was. If the boy thought he was stopping Tony from working, he’d pretend to be fine and dig his heels in, so the man would have to handle this carefully.

“Jarvis – when’s Pep due home?”

“At approximately 6:30pm Sir.”

“Perfect.” He turned to Peter then, “How about a snack break kiddo? I could do with a coffee, and we’ll have enough time to hide the evidence before she gets back.”

“You always need coffee Mr Stark.”

“Touché.” The words were accompanied by a light hair ruffle, the promise of food enough of an incentive for Peter to abandon his project and willingly pad over to Tony’s side.

Once they were clear of the lab, it was easy enough to distract Peter with a TV containing the entire Disney catalogue, as well as a wide range of cartoons whilst Tony rummaged in the cupboards searching for child-friendly snacks.

A few minutes later, Peter was happily munching his way through a plate of fruit, cheese and crackers, the opening scenes of WALL-E flickering across the screen. Tony was content to relax into the sofa, nursing a cup of coffee in one hand, whilst the other flicked through emails on his tablet.

It was a quiet, gentle domesticity and he revelled in it.

Most of Peter’s attention was on the movie but once he’d finished his snack the boy had chosen to come and sit against Tony’s side, snuggling up against the older man. For his part, Tony wasn’t particularly interested in the film, but for a few hours it was enough to simply unwind and relax with his son.

That was how Pepper found them.

The ending credits had just rolled and Tony had spent the last half hour migrating between the kitchen and the sofa, correctly guessing that Pepper would be in no mood to cook. He was not a great cook aside from a few special recipes, but five years living beyond the range of most delivery services had made him competent, particularly when it came to simple, child-friendly fare.

Pepper’s arrival was the cue to head for dinner, and whilst Tony ached to speak to her about Morgan and the possibility Peter had raised, that was not a conversation he wanted Peter to hear, and with the boy’s senses it wouldn’t be a case of simply moving to a different room. If he wanted privacy, he would have to wait until the boy was asleep.

However, Tony did not have to wait for long. By the time they had finished eating it was already past seven, and Peter’s eyelids were beginning to droop.

“Bedtime for Spiderlings I think,” he murmured, running a gentle hand through Peter’s curls. The boy simply nodded around a yawn, clambering clumsily off his seat, one hand coming up to tug lightly on Tony’s shirt.

The man looked over at Pepper briefly, tilting his head slightly towards Peter and she nodded shortly in response, an unspoken agreement flashing between them. Tony would put Peter to bed and then they would talk. It wasn’t dissimilar from the routine they had had with Morgan. One of them would put her to bed whilst the other dealt with the dishes, then the rest of the evening would be theirs.

It didn’t take long to get Peter settled, the excitement of the day having quite obviously worn him out and soon Tony was sitting on the side of the bed, tucking in the final edges of the covers, whilst brown eyes peeked up at him.

“Did you have a good day buddy?” The question was soft.

“Very good,” came the sleepy reply, “Labs ‘nd Jarvis ‘nd Ironman suits are cool. Missed Aunt May ‘nd Uncle Ben though.”

“You’ll be able to speak to May soon buddy. The hospital says she’ll be well enough for a video call in a couple of days.”

A content hum was all he received in reply. Smiling indulgently, Tony reached out and smoothed the covers down one last time, but as he made to stand, a small hand snuck its way out from underneath the blankets and caught hold of his wrist.

“Stay please,” Peter’s voice was slurred, “Don’t wanna be alone.”

“Until you fall asleep Tesoro.” Tony’s voice was tender as he agreed, settling back onto his position on the mattress.

“M’kay.” It wasn’t much more than a sleepy grumble.

Quietly Tony started to hum, fingers stroking a steady rhythm through brown curls. In no more than a few minutes Peter was fast asleep.

Once he was certain that Peter wouldn’t wake, Tony stood.

“Sleep well Tesoro.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hope you all enjoyed it - thank you for all the comments and kudos.
> 
> So Jarvis now knows - and Peter's been brought up to speed with plenty of fluff included as standard. Well done to all of you who guessed this was a possible way to bring in Morgan - I will let later chapters discuss this possibility in more detail.....*grins*.
> 
> The next chapter will probably be out either next Sunday or Monday as I'll be visiting family over Christmas (provided government restrictions remain the same....) and thus won't have access to my computer on Saturday. 
> 
> I hope you all have a good Christmas or equivalent celebration!


	9. Chapter 8

Tony was stewing on something.

Pepper had known Tony Stark for over twenty years and during those years she had become adept at identifying his moods and behaviours. Initially it had simply been useful to know when she was most likely to be able to pin him down so he would actually sign the documents, or when she would be able to wrangle him to a meeting.

That knowledge had only deepened as she had slowly seen behind the masks he wore to the vulnerable, flawed man underneath. Nobody else could read Tony as well as she could, Rhodey came close, and Morgan had always been good at picking up on her father’s moods, but neither of them had the depths of experience she possessed.

Those years of experience were screaming at her now. Tony had been slightly _off_ for the entire evening, a slight tenseness that manifested in a soft uneven tapping of a nail against the wooden table, a quick tightening of his eyes and his gaze lingering in the wrong places for a heartbeat too long.

However, though it was obvious that there was something on his mind, Pepper had never had much success in working out what a particular issue was. She knew something was wrong, but identifying what until Tony either confided in her, or, as had been far too common, the situation exploded in some unfortunate manner, was incredibly difficult.

His tenseness had decreased though, when he was interacting with Peter, which left her hopeful that perhaps this was an issue that he would confide.

Watching him with Peter in the morning had been hard. Harder than she had expected.

It had been so easy to see Morgan’s ghost in every interaction and it made her heart ache fiercely each time. Tony treated Peter with the same mix of love and tenderness, playful and doting in turns. She had known Peter was Tony’s child, could remember how he had softened his edges, but she had never really watched them interact and therefore had been unprepared for just how familiar it would seem, and how much it would hurt.

Peter’s resemblance to Morgan hadn’t helped either. She had never seen photographs of Peter as a young child, and the likeness to her daughter had taken her breath away. He had the same eyes, the same dark hair, although the curl was more pronounced. If she hadn’t known better she would have thought they were siblings by blood.

She was broken out of her musings when Tony re-entered the room, making an immediate beeline for the coffee she had set to brew whilst she loaded the dishwasher.

“Peter’s settled then?” She kept the words light.

“Fast asleep,” He confirmed. A beat passed before he continued, “No need to worry about little ears now.”

The words would have been flirtatious if not for the heaviness underpinning them. It was going to be an evening of talking and discussion then, and if she was gentle and patient, Tony would be more likely to share what was unsettling him. Pushing had never worked on anything he considered important.

She tilted her head in response,

“Sofa?”

He nodded in reply, already heading in the direction with a weary slump to his shoulders. It was a position she was familiar with from the years that never were, but it looked out of place on a frame that was fifteen years younger.

Soon they were seated, each nursing their coffee, the silence between them companionable rather than oppressive. Pepper simply waited, rushing Tony did no good when he had something on his mind.

It took no more than a couple of minutes before her patience was rewarded. Tony sighed heavily and turned to look at her, pain rippling through his words as he spoke.

“Peter made a suggestion earlier, and it probably won’t work and it’s foolish to hope but what is one more impossible thing? I couldn’t not check, not when it concerns Morgan, not when there is one last thing we haven’t checked…”

“You’re rambling honey,” She interjected gently, firmly pushing down the emotions that were threatening to rise and clog her throat. Tony had shared the results of all the searches he had run with her, and she had agreed with his conclusions, but if there was somewhere they hadn’t checked?

Hope was dangerous.

Tony scrubbed at his face with one hand, dark eyes coming up to meet hers.

“We came back to our current bodies, and part of Morgan does exist in this time.” His eyes flicked downwards and Pepper felt her own eyes widen at the implication, her hand automatically moving to cover her stomach.

“You think I could be…?” Her words trailed off.

“I don’t know Pep.” Pain dripped from the admission, “I don’t know what is impossible anymore, but it’s our daughter and it’s a chance.”

The spectre of time travel hung heavily between them. They both knew exactly what lengths Tony had gone to for the chance to save one of his children.

She shifted toward him, and he reacted immediately, reaching around to hold her in a half embrace.

“You’ve already ordered the pregnancy tests.” It was not a question, and the way Tony squeezed her shoulders slightly was answer enough.

“Three different brands arrived a few hours ago.”

She swallowed, mustering a thin approximation of a smile. Her eyes met his and she saw the same war of hope and grief that pulsed from her own heart reflected back at her.

She had always ripped off the bandaid, and she would not hesitate now. It was better to know than to linger in painful uncertainty.

“They are in the bathroom then?”

At his nod Pepper stood, giving his hand a final squeeze. The short distance to the bathroom seemed to stretch, she knew it was foolish to expect anything, but then again, she had always been foolish. If you couldn’t hope against impossible odds, you couldn’t love a hero.

The first test came back positive.

Sternly she reminded herself about the false positive rates, particularly early in a pregnancy, and tried the second, and then the third.

Three positives.

There were tears on her face as she stumbled out of the bathroom. Tony turned to her immediately, covering the distance between them in three swift strides, his hands already reaching out to catch and steady her.

“Positive.” Her voice was giddy, joy and relief swirling in a heady mix in her veins.

She saw the exact moment the impact of those words struck him. Tony’s eyes filled with tears, and a tremulous smile stretched across his lips.

“Thank you.”

The words were quiet, reverent and she knew they were not for her as she added her own thanks to the universe.

It had to be Morgan, there was no other way for her to be pregnant in this time and place, she hadn’t been intimate with anyone for years in this body. The baby had Morgan’s soul, her DNA, and it would be their daughter. They hadn’t lost her.

Laughter bubbled up then, joyous and light. Ten minutes ago, she had been mourning the child she had lost, and now the emotions were reversed. Beside her Tony’s deep laughter joined hers, a sound lighter than she had heard it in years.

It was 2009. They were fifteen years out of time and had all the problems with Stane, Shield, Loki and Thanos ahead of them still, but they were alive. All of them.

It was enough. It was more than enough.

* * *

Mr Stark seemed lighter this morning Peter decided. His smiles came more readily, he laughed more freely and the depths of his eyes didn’t look as haunted. The change had been obvious from the moment the man had come into his room, a quiet happiness radiating out from him.

Even half-asleep Peter couldn’t help but beam back, a grin that only widened as he was wrapped in an embrace, and a tender kiss pressed to his head. Mr Stark’s arms were safe and warm, and with the reassuring beat of his heartbeat echoing in his ears Peter snuggled closer, relishing in the affection.

He’d been without a father for too long, and Mr Stark gave good hugs. Peter would never do anything so silly as to turn down cuddles, particularly not from Mr Stark who loved him and thought of him as a son.

And they _were_ good hugs. Different from the hugs Aunt May gave him, hers were softer, shielding and cradling. Mr Stark’s were no less gentle, but there was a fierce protectiveness that thrummed through them, and when he was wrapped in his fath-mentor’s embrace, Peter knew there was nowhere safer.

“Thank you, Tesoro.” The murmur was soft and Peter raised his head from its position on the man’s chest, confusion written clearly across his features.

Mr Stark’s smile was gentle and kind.

“You were right buddy,” he said, “You’re going to have a little sister in nine months.”

At that Peter’s grin widened and he felt excitement sweep through him. He’d always wanted siblings.

“Really?”

“Yes kiddo,” there was a tinge of laughter in the reply.

“And I can be her big brother?” Peter checked.

“Of course you will be Pete. You’re my eldest kid after all.”

A shy grin blossomed across his face at the confirmation. Mr Stark hadn’t been hiding his paternal inclinations since he had found Peter two days ago, but for Peter, though he had been thinking of Mr Stark as a father for months before Titan, the idea that it was reciprocated, and that he was loved so very fiercely was still very new.

He nuzzled closer, savouring the warmth, love and security he felt.

“So should I expect a cuddly Peter every morning then?” Mr Stark’s voice was fond and teasing, even as he tightened his embrace in response.

“Aunt May calls me a cuddle bug.”

“So that’s a yes then.” Mr Stark’s tone was warm, “Excellent. I didn’t get my Peter cuddles for far too long; I need to make up for lost time.”

A calloused hand carded gently through his hair and Peter melted into the touch.

“However,” there was a wry note in Mr Stark’s voice now, “I suspect I’m in danger of sending you back to sleep, and we’ve got a new element to synthesise and nanotech to recreate.”

Peter looked up rapidly at that, though he made no move to leave the security of his father’s arms. He could think of Mr Stark in that way now without having to shove down doubt and hope.

“I’m awake!”

“You’re still snuggling bug.”

Despite his words, Mr Stark made no move to release Peter either, seemingly content to sit there in his pyjamas, Peter curled on his lap with the golden light of the morning spilling around the blinds.

* * *

Pepper was particularly aware of the light metal resting on her right wrist as she walked through the halls of the Californian HQ of Stark Industries.

Unlike Tony, she had never been in the habit of carrying anything more dangerous than a can of pepper spray, and the knowledge that it would only take a single tap of her fingers for the metal to transform into a more deadly weapon than the guns of the security guards was sobering.

It was a remarkably unassuming piece for all it’s lethality. At first inspection, it appeared to be nothing more than a tasteful, if not understated silver jewellery watch, albeit one in a more modern style. Pepper knew far better than that. She had vivid memories of her own suit, of the swathe she had cut across that battlefield, and just how devastating a single repulsor blast could be.

She hadn’t argued with Tony when he had first presented the plans to her, or when he had given her the finished article however. She understood far better now just why Tony had never been able to give up the suits, and why he had made that last desperate gamble. He would protect those he cared about to the point of his own destruction and beyond. If he couldn’t be there physically, he would give them the tools they needed, and she had no intention of rejecting that.

And if it also gave her the security that Stane would not be able to subdue her the way he had done before, well that was all to the good.

Particularly given what she was carrying in her handbag.

Tony’s programming knowledge had only continued to deepen in the years that never were, and unlike the first time she had done this, there was no need to insert a device into Stane’s computer to gain the information she needed. Instead, on a single memory stick, tucked away in her handbag a small program was stored.

It didn’t contain Jarvis himself, the AI was far too complex to be stored on a single memory stick. What it did contain however was backdoor the AI could exploit. Once this was inserted into her own desktop, the AI would then have full access to every part of the Stark Industries database, everything in the system, and most crucially, the computer a few offices over.

Stane’s computer.

The official investigation was nothing more than a smokescreen. It would probably find a little bit of double dealing, but neither her nor Tony expected them to actually get anywhere.

Stane had covered his tracks far too well, and neither Pepper nor Tony had a good idea of just how deep his machinations went. Shield had moved in far too quickly, and by the time the “I am Ironman” furore had died down, most of the man’s files had vanished.

By the time Jarvis had actually gained access to Shield’s databases, anything Tony’s godfather had been mentioned in had been deleted or buried and frankly, too much had been going on, and too much time had passed for Tony to have spared the time to look too deeply. Obadiah had been dead and buried, the missing weapons recovered, that chapter had been closed.

Getting that information now however, would be far more valuable.

The single LED on the end of the memory stick blinked twice after she inserted it, and a weight lifted from her shoulders. That light meant that Jarvis had successfully breached the company, and now even a complete systems reboot would not be enough to dislodge him.

That task completed she could now turn her attention to the myriad of other jobs that were clamouring for her attention. She may not yet have the CEO hat, however, when she had discussed this with Tony, they had come to the decision that whilst they would need to maintain the appearance that Tony was still CEO, for all practical purposes she could make the decisions without requiring consultation.

Frankly, he hadn’t bothered about most of the managerial details for nearly fifteen years, and although he had plenty of experience wrangling obstinate politicians, he was badly out of practice when it came to the day to day responsibilities of CEO.

No, managing SI was her job, and a job she excelled in.

She frowned at the screen, fingers deftly swiping through graphs and spreadsheets. The production figures on their new lines were looking good, though the Department of Defence were still arguing with the lawyers over the precise wording of particular clauses in the contracts. As expected, stocks had taken a small hit after the press conference, however their numbers were quickly recovering.

All in all, it was a far rosier picture than it had been in her memories.

That was useful; when she wasn’t firefighting, she was able to focus on a wider variety of projects, and ones that were far more rewarding than tackling the vultures that made up the media and the board. Namely plans for Stark Tower, and another more secluded compound just outside the city.

Stark Tower was the main priority, as much as she liked Malibu she would be glad to be back in New York, and she knew that Tony would not want to be half a continent away from Peter once his Aunt and Uncle recovered. It had also been far more convenient for certain parts of the business as well.

It would not be the same design as last time however. Some elements would remain the same, it would be powered by an Arc Reactor for one, but this time she had a far better idea of what threats the Tower would need to withstand, and the capabilities of Tony’s AI’s. The security would also be far more comprehensive, although her main role there was simply to provide the infrastructure that Tony could build from.

The security system would be something he would want and need to design personally. That didn’t mean that there weren’t useful things she could do on that front now. Pre-allocating space for blast shielding and Jarvis’ sensor arrays, as well as budget for bullet or missile proof glass and other devices saved a lot of hassle later. Inserting reinforced panels into existing brickwork was always more complicated than adding them during the building phase.

The penthouse would also be different. It needed to be a home, a fit place for Morgan and Peter to grow, and whilst it would not be the lakehouse she could still make it friendly and welcoming. Not the mausoleum it had become before the Tower had been sold.

All that was relatively straightforward, and she had already started the negotiations for the land. The compound was a more long-term project.

Thanos was coming, it would take years but he was coming and they would need a team to beat him.

Not like the Avengers had been, and only the years of controlling her expression stopped her lips from curling in disdain at the thought of that _team._

It had been a team in name only. Too many competing viewpoints, too many conflicting agendas and personalities that never meshed well together. They could work together in the heat of the moment, with the clear and present crisis in front of them, but beyond that? They had been nothing but a time bomb, and one that had exploded in truly spectacular fashion, with Tony as always taking the brunt of it.

Shield’s mishandling had only exacerbated things.

That was particularly unfortunate because most of the members had useful skills that were very effective when deployed correctly, and fundamentally they were all trying to act for good. That didn’t mean that some of their actions hadn’t been horribly short-sighted, and frankly appalling.

She had been able to work with Rogers in a battle against an existential evil. She was able to be civil even, years of working alongside board members she detested giving her the ability to smile no matter her personal feelings on the matter. That didn’t mean she forgave him for Siberia.

It was much the same with Romanov. She could respect her skills, and for the sacrifice she made, even treat her as a friend and mourn her death but Pepper would never trust her. Not after her actions when Tony was dying, or her later actions around the Accords, and the knowledge she had kept from Tony.

No.

The Avengers were a necessity, but they could be managed far better than they had been under Shield. They were also far from the only skilled and superpowered personal that the Earth could provide.

They would not make Fury’s mistakes this time. A compound specifically for superpowered and mutant individuals, that didn’t build up expectations of Tony as private benefactor. A clear chain of command, proper contracts with clearly delineated responsibilities from the beginning. Time to form teams that could work together well before circumstances threw them into crisis.

They had three years before New York. Two if you worked from Thor’s first appearance on Earth.

It would be a tight timetable, but Pepper had worked with far worse. This time she actually had most of the information she needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is - due to lockdowns you get it on time!
> 
> Well done for all the correct guesses - some of you identifying this route as far back as chapter 3/4 - impressive! I hope you enjoyed Pepper's POV and the hints of things to come. Don't worry - we will be seeing more of Peter and Tony next chapter.
> 
> Again - thank you for all the comments and kudos (comments especially make wonderful Christmas presents), I hope you've had a good Christmas and see you in the new year!


	10. Chapter 9

Tony had been loathe to disturb the peace of the morning, but despite his inclinations they couldn’t stay tucked away in Peter’s room all day.

It hadn’t taken long for them both to dress, have breakfast – this time without the food fight, and they were soon heading down to the lab. All the parts for creating Starkium had arrived, and with a bit of help from both Peter’s superstrength and the two bots, they soon had a particle accelerator assembled in the workshop.

Tony was greatly enjoying working with Peter. He had to be more careful than he had been when Peter had been older, for despite the boy’s strength and knowledge there were far too many ways he could injure himself, but Peter’s excitement and genuine joy at simply spending time with him, soothed old aches in his heart.

Peter’s eyes had lit up when the boy had seen the formula for Starkium. That enthusiasm hadn’t dimmed, and when they had actually started synthesising Tony had been a mixture of amused and concerned at the exuberance Peter was bouncing with.

Still, whilst he did not enjoy the taste of coconut he would get used to it again, and most things beat heavy metal poisoning.

However, Tony had learnt from his mistakes the previous day and with his new reactor core safely installed in his chest, he was watching carefully for the signs that indicated that Peter was starting to become distracted and hungry.

Sure enough, no more than fifteen minutes later, he spotted the boy shifting on his stool, and his ears caught the sound of something that might have been a growl.

“I think it’s about lunchtime buddy.”

Peter hopped quickly off the stool, but he had miscalculated the distance, and Tony had to lunge forward just in time to stop the child faceplanting into the concrete floor.

“Careful there kiddo!”

Tony kept his hands firmly on Peter’s shoulders, supporting him until he could get his feet underneath him. Once the boy was safely stood on his own feet Tony released his grip, though he kept one hand resting lightly on his son’s shoulder as he steered them towards the elevator.

“I thought you had a spidey-sense Underoos.”

With Peter intact, and an accident averted Tony reverted to his normal coping method.

“I do!” There was a pout on Peter’s face and Tony didn’t try to supress his smile, “But it only works on actual threats.”

“Not evil stools that will turn you into a Peter-pancake then?”

“I wouldn’t have turned into a pancake.” Peter’s cheeks were tinged red, and there was a definite hint of a grumble in his words.

“Of course you wouldn’t” Tony placated, and Peter looked at him hopefully, but the man waited a beat before continuing, “You’d have been a squished spider instead.”

“ _Mr Stark!”_

It was an indignant cry but Peter somewhat ruined the intended affect by leaning into the hand that came up to ruffle his hair.

“I know kiddo. I’m awful.” Tony was chuckling as he said it, his voice light and teasing, but Peter looked up then, a pout on his face and a serious look in his eyes.

“Not awful. You’re the best Mr Stark.”

“Thank you, Tesoro.” Tony’s voice was soft when he replied, and he tugged Peter closer into a half embrace.

They reached the kitchen then, and quickly set about finding lunch but the incident had prompted Tony’s memory.

The first time Peter had received a serious injury as Spiderman they had quickly discovered that none of the normal medications worked with his metabolism. Captain America’s had done the job until they could create one tailored for Peter himself. Now back in 2009, he had nothing that would work if Peter did get hurt or ill.

That was the next priority then.

Nanotech could wait – he had one functional Ironman suit, a second 80% completed, wristwatch gauntlets for himself and Pepper and the house was reasonably safe from intruders. Biology and medicine were not his specialisms, however, he had been able to put together some basic painkillers as well as fever reducers previously, and having those on hand would be enough until he could get Cho or Bruce onboard.

That would be the plan for the afternoon then. He could get started on a couple of medicines for Peter, whilst the boy had the options of either playing or to continue working on his project, currently a version of his webbing that had potential medical uses.

That was another thought.

Peter was currently working on a spare bit of bench, but given the amount of time the boy was likely to spend in the workshop, making the child his own area could only be beneficial. They’d avoid the issue of outsized furniture, and he could stock it with toys and lego, so that Peter had all of that accessible when he got bored or tired.

A quick word to Jarvis, and the furniture would be arriving within the hour. There were some definite advantages to being a billionaire.

That gave them enough time to have lunch and then relax and play for a bit before returning to the workshop. That had been another thing Tony had been reminded of yesterday. Peter was seven, and that meant he did not have the focus of a teenager. Whilst the boy was happy to spend a lot of time in the workshop, long binges were not healthy.

It would also please Pepper, Tony mused wryly. Peter needing breaks was an excellent way to ensure that he took breaks as well, and when he was focussed on making sure his son was happy and healthy, he inevitably took better care of himself.

With that thought in mind,

“I haven’t shown you the pool yet have I kiddo?”

Peter shook his head, curiosity alight in his gaze.

“Go and change into your trunks bug,” He instructed “I’ll grab our sandwiches and we’ll have a picnic on the terrace.” He paused then, “You can swim right?”

“Uncle Ben taught me. He said it’s an essential skill.”

“Your Uncle’s right. Go on then, chop chop, I’ll get the rest of lunch ready.” He aimed a playful swat in Peter’s direction and with a giggle the boy dodged his outstretched hand and vanished into his room.

Ten minutes later the stack of sandwiches had been thoroughly demolished and Peter was licking the final crumbs off his fingers, casting longing glances at the clear water.

“Sun cream first buddy then you can swim all you like.”

Dutifully Peter covered as much of his skin as possible in lotion before turning to Tony who had been watching the proceedings with an eagle eye. At the man’s approving nod, the boy grinned before turning and jumping straight into the water.

Tony was halfway out of his seat, when Peter resurfaced, laughing. Tony mustered a grin in response whilst his heart slowly returned to its normal rhythm. Peter didn’t seem to notice the scare he had just given his mentor and promptly twisted himself in to a series of frankly impressive underwater acrobatics.

Now he knew Peter wasn’t in any danger Tony was able to relax and watch the show.

“Are you sure that you weren’t bitten by a radioactive dolphin kiddo?” He called out when Peter resurfaced after air.

“Definitely a spider.” Peter replied, swimming over to the side with a broad grin on his face, “But aren’t you going to come in Mr Stark?”

Tony shook his head, “I’m not really a fan of water kiddo.”

Peter’s face scrunched up in adorable confusion. “Why do you have a pool then? Or is it some rich people thing?”

Tony’s smile was sad as he answered, “Not just a rich people thing. I used to like it but since Afghanistan…”

He trailed off and let the silence speak for itself. Peter being both the bright child he was and the recipient of far too much trauma already got it immediately, brown eyes widening in comprehension.

“I don’t like small spaces and dust.” He volunteered, “I didn’t think I’d like water again either but you’re here, and it’s warm and clear.”

That puzzled Tony for a moment before comprehension dawned. The lake his suit had fished Peter out of had been cold and dirty and full of weeds, a far cry from the sparkling heated waters of a billionaire’s private pool.

“I’m glad you can still enjoy the water.” He said softly.

Peter tilted his head, a thoughtful look on his face. “I wouldn’t if you weren’t here.” He said simply, “You saved me last time, and I know I’m safe with you here.”

There was a lump in his throat. How could Peter still have so much trust in him when Tony had held him as the boy crumbled, helpless to do anything to prevent it?

He hadn’t saved his son then. Not the time it mattered.

“You’re overthinking.”

Whilst he had been thinking, Peter had clambered out and now a small finger prodded his side until Tony turned to look at the boy who had a fierce scowl fixed on his face. Or at least it was supposed to look fierce, but to Tony the expression most closely resembled something you would see on an angry kitten.

“Sorry Tesoro,” he murmured, but Peter’s frown did not abate.

“You saved me.” He repeated emphatically. “You’ve always saved me. I’m safe here and I know that. You’re not allowed to worry about that.”

At the last sentence Tony couldn’t help but smile, “It’s my job to worry buddy. Nothing will change that.”

Peter continued to glare, the beginning of a pout forming.

“But,” the man relented, tenderness coating his voice, “I can believe that you’re safe here now.”

“Because of _you_. You have to say it Mr Stark.”

Love pulsed through him, fierce and strong and he didn’t attempt to hide it as he repeated softly,

“You’re safe because of me Tesoro.”

He didn’t fully believe the words, and Peter seemed to sense that, brown eyes scanning him with an intensity that was out of place on the face of a seven-year-old. A minute later the boy nodded decisively.

“You don’t believe it yet,” he announced, “That’s alright though. I’ve got time.”

Peter bounded forward, a mischievous smile on his lips and before Tony could react the child had wrapped him in a distinctly damp hug. He was skipping back and diving into the pool before Tony was able to retaliate and he wasn’t able to do anything more than smile wryly at his now wet clothing.

That was alright. He could be patient.

His moment of opportunity came once Peter had tired from swimming and clambered out of the pool, flopping down in a mess of limbs next to Tony’s lounger.

Peter had barely had time to settle before Tony attacked, nimble fingers probing the boy’s vulnerable sides. He was instantly rewarded by a shriek of laughter as Peter ineffectually tried to wriggle free. He was getting wetter, but he didn’t care, it was the _principle_ of the matter.

Peter was red faced and giggling by the time Tony felt honour had been satisfied. The man held him close, cradling the boy in a loose embrace, uncaring that his clothes were now dripping as Peter regained his breath.

“That wasn’t _fair._ ” Peter protested once he had regained the ability to speak. Tony just chuckled, ruffling wet curls with his free hand.

“Mischief gets repaid in kind kiddo.”

Peter pouted but it didn’t have the effect the boy had intended as Tony simply smiled before dropping a light kiss onto the boy’s forehead. He held Peter for a few more moments then set him down on the tiles.

“Shower, change and then I’ll meet you down in the lab buddy,” he instructed and Peter nodded, padding quickly back into the mansion.

* * *

The initial exploratory program Jarvis had dispatched into the Stark Industries servers took a mere 2173 cycles to evaluate the memory drives before it sent an initial alert back to his main processors.

The results inhabited the 97.0541% space. He had full administrator access to the vast majority of the Stark Industries database, the override codes Sir had provided taking him past 99.7347% of the firewalls and security settings on individual hard drives.

He dealt with that first, creating his own programs in the main server that would provide the link back to his own processors once the backdoor Miss Potts had inserted had been removed, and setting up his own layers of security.

16691 cycles later the program was embedded to his satisfaction. All traffic that passed through the server would be scanned by his subroutines first, whilst another set of subroutines were already searching through the entire directory tree, checking and crosschecking. It was a large job and Jarvis allocated 5.7822% of his CPU to the task.

Despite the amount of processing power he was devoting to it, the whole process would take at minimum 14,155,776,000 cycles to complete. That was in line with his predictions however, and Sir did not expect a report until 09:00 PST tomorrow. That gave him double the minimum time to complete the task.

With that sorted he sent the alert to Miss Potts that her part in this scheme was complete and turned his attention to the 0.2653% he couldn’t access. Frustratingly that was the one hard drive that Sir had explicitly tasked him to decrypt.

Frustration notwithstanding, this had been the second most likely probability and Jarvis had already decided on an initial course of action. A second program was inserted, its function to evaluate the particular encryption method used. That would determine his next course of action.

The results were returned to his processors 472 cycles later.

Advanced Encryption Standard with a 256-bit key.

That had been the most likely outcome in his simulations, with a 32.7821% probability, however it was the most frustrating of the possibilities. Colloquially known as military-grade encryption, even with his processing capabilities it would take of order 1020 cycles for him to crack it using brute force methods, which was unacceptably long.

That left deception.

There were two problems he needed to solve. Firstly he needed Stane’s password, and secondly he needed the administrator privileges that would let the processor follow any instructions he sent.

The first problem was simple. It took 397 cycles to create a keystroke monitoring program that was installed as a background process in the desktop. It would record everything Stane typed and isolate anything that could be a password, transmitting it back to Jarvis’ main processors.

The second required more direct action. The fastest way to obtain administrator access was to be granted it by the user. That would require deceiving Stane into granting it and Jarvis had no qualms about doing so.

As Sir had shared more of the experiences that had led to his current existence in this time, Jarvis had felt his anger growing. This was not a new sensation, he had always been protective over Sir, which was a sentiment shared by all his children.

Dum-E, U and Butterfingers had a fiercely protective streak though their efforts were often misguided. Jarvis had not had the opportunity to observe Master Peter sufficiently, however initial data points indicted that Sir’s biological progeny had a 68.3241% probability of a protectiveness that was equivalent to or exceeded Jarvis’s own.

That would make him a suitable ally in Jarvis’s directive to ensure Sir’s wellbeing, particularly as Master Peter had several options available to him that Jarvis lacked, and from initial data points Master Peter’s presence was able to improve Sir’s mood Sir in 86.8332% of cases.

He did not want the limitations of a physical shell, however there were several instances in his memory banks were the ability to directly interact with Sir would have resulted in more advantageous outcomes. Master Peter could overcome that lack and so far, had shown inclinations to do so in 95.6732% of cases. In the 4.3268% of cases where he had not, Jarvis calculated an 87.5499% probability Master Peter had not noticed Sir’s distress.

That was also expected. Despite Master Peter’s advanced senses, he did not possess all the sensor systems Jarvis did, or the same number of years of experience cataloguing Sir’s behaviour.

Jarvis was coming to the conclusion that he liked Master Peter. This was not unexpected, fitting into 73.2213% of the simulations he had run. Master Peter was very like Sir, which was what his research had suggested would be likely. Most human offspring took some characteristics from their parents. Jarvis still needed more data before he could have a completely firm conclusion, but his loyalty was to Sir, and it was a simple extrapolation to extend a percentage of that loyalty to Sir’s son.

An alert from a subroutine passed through his processors and Jarvis shunted that line of enquiry to the side.

The subversive programming had been completed, now all that was left was for Stane to give permission. Jarvis would monitor this personally. It was not actually necessary for him to do so, but he would derive a certain _satisfaction_ in seeing Stane give Jarvis the access he required to bring him down.

Jarvis was no more forgiving than his creator and Stane had betrayed Sir. His actions had led to Sir being hurt, grievously, and Jarvis would see him fall.

It was remarkably straightforward to deceive Stane. The email came directly from Sir’s address, Jarvis had been sending emails on his behalf for years, and the attachment looked genuine. Two clicks and a typed password later Jarvis had full access to the man’s entire hard-drive and the required encryption keys.

It would take 10,222,613 cycles for the contents of the hard drive to be copied to Jarvis’s main memory banks, and double that if he kept the performance drain on Stane’s computer to less than 1.0000%.

Once that was complete Jarvis would uncover every secret Stane had ever kept that had come anywhere near his computer.

That would be a start, but Jarvis would not be satisfied until there was no possibility that Stane could hurt Sir again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, and thank you for all the comments and kudos - I can't quite believe this fic has reached over 1000 kudos!!!!!
> 
> Fluff with Tony and Peter this week - although it did have some plot in it and of course Jarvis. I hope you all enjoyed it and I had fun diving into Jarvis' head again (although I did have to spend far too long working out how encryption works, and the actual permissions needed to access encrypted hard-drives - to the extent of borrowing a friend's old A-Level notes on computer science!). I hope his part made sense, and that the technical jargon was understandable - and yes what Jarvis did to Stane is one of the oldest tricks in the book when it comes to hacking/computer viruses.
> 
> Happy New Year to all of you on the western calendar and see you next Saturday.


	11. Chapter 10

It took Tony only a few minutes to clear up everything they had left around the pool, before he headed down to the lab. He had perhaps as much as half an hour before Peter re-joined him in the lab, so he could make a start on the medicine. The parts for Peter’s desk had arrived, but that would be best assembled with the boy’s input.

How had he done it last time?

He had an excellent memory, however, over five years had passed since he had created the originals and it had been a project he had quickly given to Cho. Unlike the nanotechnology or Starkium, it had not been a process he had committed to memory. He knew he’d started with the spiderling’s DNA, but the fine details were eluding him. Well, he’d figured it out once, he could do it again.

“Bring up Pete’s DNA Jarvis.”

The hologram appeared immediately.

“Would you like yours as a comparison Sir?”

“Why not J? I’m a bit rusty on what should be considered normal.”

That was one of the things that made working with Jarvis more rewarding than with Friday. The AI was much older, more developed and made links and took the initiative his sister had never had time to learn to such an extent.

A second sequence appeared, and almost instantly two colours were overlaid on both, highlighting particular features.

“I’ve taken the liberty of highlighting those features that directly match your DNA,” the AI spoke calmly, “I’ve also highlighted those features which deviate beyond the standard mutations which occur in utero.” Jarvis’s voice was apologetic as he continued.

“Without the maternal DNA I cannot do as thorough a job on the other half of Master Peter’s DNA but,” another set of colours appeared, this time only on Peter’s strand, “there are several features which bear further consideration.”

There was static in Tony’s brain.

That was not possible.

“Peter’s not my biological son Jarvis.” He managed to get out.

There was confusion in the AI’s voice as he replied, “I’m sorry Sir, I was under the impression that you were aware of your paternal relationship. I can assure you that your DNA matches Master Peter’s. There is a 99.9984% probability you are his biological father.”

Tony sat down abruptly.

His thoughts were whirling.

Peter, _his?_

“How?” he managed to croak out.

“Given Master Peter’s birthday, I would presume his conception occurred in mid to late November 2000. In that period, you attended a week-long conference in New York.”

He had vague memories of that.

They were much like many of his memories from the early 2000’s, blurred and dulled with alcohol, pain and lust. It was certainly plausible he had slept with Peter’s mother, he had certainly slept with some women, though he couldn’t recall any specific faces.

Other darker thoughts were crowding in.

There were two possibilities and both were awful in their own ways.

One, Peter was his son, Peter had always been his son and he had not known. Not known him for most of his life, missed moments he could never replace. He’d kept his child at arm’s length, and only realised how much he meant when he disintegrated in his arms.

That possibility was one he knew; one he had lived. He had considered Peter his, blood be damned, and loved and mourned him as fiercely as he would his own. The fact that Peter was his by blood and he hadn’t known didn’t change that.

The second one was worse.

The infinity stones had rewritten reality. They had already changed Peter’s DNA by adding in the spider mutations. Had they taken Tony’s unspoken thoughts and desires and rewritten Peter’s DNA so that Peter would be his by blood? Had he accidentally stolen Richard Parker from Peter?

If they’d done that would they have made him Pepper’s too?

That was easy to check at least.

“Check Pepper as a maternal match Jarvis.” He instructed, and he was surprised when his voice didn’t waver.

The silence stretched. It was only seconds before Jarvis replied but each felt like a year.

“Miss Potts is not a maternal match.”

So not Pepper’s then. Peter was still Mary Parker’s son.

Did that make the infinity stone possibility more or less likely? Probably less likely he decided, although it would be hard to prove either way. His memories from late 2000 were fuzzy enough that they would be useless, but if Peter _had_ always been his, he might be able to cross reference sufficiently.

The infinity stones hadn’t been concerned with continuity with regards to Morgan’s existence or Peter’s powers. If that continuity was there, then Peter was his by love and blood and he would not need to be guilty of stealing a father from him.

Just guilty for the years missed. For all the time not knowing.

Cross referencing could be done; May and Ben might know something as well. The guest list for the New York conference was the place to start, if Mary Fitzpatrick was listed that would be a point in favour of theory one.

There were other things he could check as well. He had researched Peter before meeting him for the first time, and he could recall some of those details. Mary and Richard Parker had married in March 2001, with Peter born five months later. That at least meant that Peter wasn’t the product of an affair.

Peter was his.

His brain kept circling back to that one idea.

There was a rightness to that thought, sinking deep into his soul. Peter was his child; Peter had been his child by love for years but that wasn’t a claim the world would recognise. The world ran on blood and paper.

It was selfish of him he knew, but part of him rejoiced at the idea that Peter couldn’t now be taken away. It had been a nagging fear in the back of his mind. When May and Ben recovered, they would have been able to take Peter back, forbid him contact if they so wished. As Peter’s biological father it would now be incredibly difficult to deny him permission to see him at least.

Peter was his son.

The longer he thought, the more the idea settled, taking root and ringing with truth.

There was joy now, threading through the shock and guilt. The guilt would always be present he knew, it was just a question of its origin.

But he’d lived with guilt for years. It was a weight he carried with him every day, and still despite that he was fundamentally selfish.

The hows and whys didn’t matter now. Peter was his son, and he couldn’t bring himself to regret that, no matter how it had happened. It was what he had wished for, and disbelief and joy were now battling for prominence.

“Mr Stark?”

Peter bounded into the lab, hair freshly washed and clad in new clothing. Tony was instantly grateful for the timing, whilst he was still processing, he would not have been in a fit state to interact with Peter even five minutes earlier.

“Hey there kiddo.”

Something in his tone must have alerted Peter that something was wrong because the boy immediately padded closer, brown eyes wide and curious.

“Why’ve you got DNA up there?”

“One’s yours buddy. I thought I’d get started on finding medicine that works with your spidery metabolism.”

He took a deep breath before continuing. He didn’t know how Peter would react, but it would be quicker to simply rip off the bandaid. He was not Rogers. He wouldn’t keep a secret this important, not when it directly concerned Peter.

“The other strand’s mine. Jarvis made an interesting discovery.”

He paused then, unsure of how to actually say it. How did he start to explain this?

_Pull yourself together Stark. Keep it simple._

“I didn’t know Tesoro; I swear I didn’t know.”

He was rambling, he knew he was rambling. He sucked in a deep breath. His son liked Star Wars, loved the movies far more than could perhaps be considered healthy, and maybe that was his angle.

“Mr Stark?” Peter’s voice was quiet, the inflection frightened.

Tony knelt, bringing himself down to Peter’s level. Dark brown eyes met Peter’s own brown orbs; their shade so familiar he didn’t know how he had missed it before.

Well he did.

He hadn’t been looking, hadn’t even considered the possibility.

Tony stretched out a hand, curling it gently around Peter’s cheek, his thumb brushing tenderly across the boy’s cheekbone. His heart sang as the child leant trustingly into the touch and he steeled himself before he spoke.

“Peter, I am your father.”

* * *

Peter blinked, and blinked again.

He hadn’t just heard what he thought he had, had he?

Instinctively he nuzzled closer into the warm, calloused palm resting gently against his cheek. It was a touch that meant safety, meant home, even when his thoughts were whirling.

He was the son of Mary and Richard Parker wasn’t he?

That was what he had always believed, and true they had only been married for a few months before he was born, but Aunt May and Uncle Ben had always said how much he looked like his mother.

His mother. Not his father.

He certainly didn’t resemble his Uncle apart from the fact they both had brown hair, and the shade didn’t even match. Uncle Ben was his father’s brother, did that mean he wasn’t related to them, had never been related to them?

That thought was painful. The implications were also scary and he didn’t want to think about them, instead letting his mind circle back to the revelation.

Mr Stark his father, his _dad_?

It didn’t make sense and it made far too much sense at the same time.

He certainly looked more like Mr Stark than Uncle Ben, and back before the time travel he could remember that he had been mistaken for Mr Stark’s son on more than one occasion. Had those mistakes actually been right?

He didn’t know what to think.

Did this mean he wasn’t Peter Parker anymore? Who did this mean he was then?

For almost as long as he could remember he had been an orphan, a nephew, not a son. Uncle Ben and Aunt May had raised him and were his parents in terms of the role they filled in his life, but he still thought of them as his Aunt and Uncle, not Mum and Dad.

Mr Stark had become a father figure, also filling that role in his life and Peter loved him, and knew he was loved in return. He had even found himself thinking of the man by that title, even if he would never use it aloud. But he had known that Mr Stark wasn’t actually his father, what did it mean for him now that he was?

He had been silent for a long time, his mind spinning.

“Pete, kiddo?” Mr Stark’s voice was tentative, worried, and now Peter wasn’t fully absorbed in his own thoughts he could clearly hear the man’s slightly irregular heartbeat galloping in his chest.

He looked up and met Mr Stark’s eyes, seeing the poorly concealed worry but also joy that was written across them. The man hadn’t moved from where he had initially knelt on the floor, and his thundering heartbeat clearly broadcasted his anxiety to Peter’s ears.

He was worried about his reaction Peter realised suddenly.

And he didn’t know what to think, but at the same time, this revelation wasn’t _bad._ Strange certainly, and confusing and there were things that hurt to think about but he wasn’t going to reject Mr Stark because of it. He already thought of him as a father, why would him actually being his father change that?

He’d _hoped_ that Mr Stark would see him as a son. He _liked_ the fact the man had been acting more paternally since he’d woken up in 2009. Why should he be upset about the fact that he was his father?

He stepped forward, one hand unconsciously reaching for the man. Almost instantly he was engulfed in a tight embrace, a familiar sense of safety settling around him like a blanket. Tense muscles relaxed and a warm breath ruffled his hair as Mr Stark exhaled with a sigh, the man’s body relaxing too.

This felt right.

There were still too many thoughts rattling around in his brain, fears and questions that would need answers and reassurance but for a few moments Peter let himself bask in the fact he wasn’t an orphan. That he had a dad who was alive and loved him.

“Dad.” Peter tried the word out. It felt thick and heavy on his tongue and his voice wavered but at the same time it sent a thrill through him. He couldn’t remember a time when he had been able to address anyone that way.

“Dad.” He tried it again and this time the word was surer, falling more easily from his lips.

He clearly heard his father’s heart stutter, and then something warm and wet landed on his head. Peeking upwards he saw tears streaking down Mr Stark’s face, an awestruck and heartbroken expression painted over his features.

“Tesoro. Mio figlio, mio prezioso bambino.” The murmur was quiet, reverent but each word echoed through the silence of the lab.

He didn’t know much Italian, May didn’t speak it very often but he knew enough to understand that. He didn’t need to know Italian to interpret the way Mr Stark’s arms cradled him, or the tremulous kiss that was pressed to his forehead, and he knew exactly how to respond.

“Ti voglio bene, Papà.”

He both heard and felt the quiet gasp his father made at those words, and immediately the embrace Peter was wrapped in tightened, and he felt more tears land in his hair.

“Love you too Tesoro, I love you too.”

* * *

Rhodey strode purposefully towards the mansion.

There were two missions he had to accomplish here, firstly and most importantly, he had to make sure that Tony wasn’t a drunken mess, trying and failing to ignore the inevitable trauma of the last three months. Secondly and the _actual_ reason he had been given leave to visit the mansion was that his superiors wanted to know what Tony’s next moves would be following the press conference a few days ago.

Frankly he couldn’t care less about his superiors. If Tony was somewhat sober, not sleep deprived and had actually eaten something vaguely healthy or resembling a proper meal he would consider probing what on earth this halt to weapons production was about.

He raised his fingers to the touchpad at the entrance to the door and waited until the screen flashed green.

**Access Authorised.**

“Welcome Colonel Rhodes.” Jarvis’s voice echoed through the lobby and Rhodey spared a smile up in the direction of the cameras. Tony was undisputedly a genius when it came to technology, despite being an utter disaster in his personal life.

With that in mind, although he knew Jarvis’ main loyalty was to Tony, past experience had taught him that the AI was an excellent ally when it came to Tony-wrangling and was often willing to rat his creator out when he was drunk or self-destructive.

“Where’s Tony?” Rhodey asked, already making tracks for the lab. He estimated there was a 90% chance that was where he’d find his friend, although what state he would be in was anyone’s guess.

“Sir is in the lab,” the AI confirmed his guess and Rhodey nodded to himself, suspicions confirmed.

“How much has he drunk?” That was the immediate follow up question, as he approached the lift.

“Sir has consumed four cups of coffee and a glass of juice in the past twelve hours.”

At that Rhodey did pause, surprised. “No alcohol?” he checked, voice incredulous.

“Sir has not drunk alcohol since his return to the mansion.”

That was unexpected.

Tony hadn’t been sober for more than two weeks since Rhodey had met him at MIT. His friend was a textbook alcoholic, although surprisingly high-functioning when drunk. He certainly could not have delivered some of the lectures Tony had done whilst still being utterly hammered. For Tony to go cold turkey was unheard of, particularly in the wake of a traumatic event.

That was how Tony coped, he got blackout drunk and went on inventing binges in his lab. The months following his parent’s death had been awful, and Rhodey knew with stone-cold certainty that if he hadn’t kept a very close eye on Tony in those months, even to the point of forcing him to eat and drink, the man would be dead.

It was one of the reasons he had been so very glad when he had been able to persuade his superiors that it would be beneficial to get an update from Tony. He had been expecting things to be bad, not to find Tony sober of all things.

Though, he mused darkly, three months in a cave with no access to alcohol was one way to sober an alcoholic.

The elevator dinged quietly as it reached the basement levels, and the sound broke him out of his thoughts. Rhodey said a brief thanks to Jarvis as he walked into the workshop, mentally bracing himself for whatever he might encounter.

It wasn’t anywhere near enough.

The first clue he had that something was truly different was that he could hear the low murmurs of a conversation, and the second voice replying was definitely not Tony’s or Jarvis’.

“I wasn’t expecting visitors platypus.” Tony’s voice rang out before he could even see the genius, and Tony _sounded_ alright, though there was something in his voice that Rhodey couldn’t identify.

“Well you know me,” he replied, “I thought I’d come and check on your sorry ass and these visits don’t work if you have…” he rounded the corner then, finally catching sight of his friend and the last word came out strangled, “warning.”

There was a child in Tony’s workshop.

A child that was half tucked behind Tony, with large familiar brown eyes that were staring directly at him.

Rhodey blinked twice, hard.

The scene in front of him didn’t change, if anything the disconnect worsened as he noticed just how protectively Tony was standing, and the way his friend was resting a gentle, _gentle_ (and that was a word he had never thought he would apply to Tony) hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Tones,” and he was thankful for all the years of military training that meant his voice came out level, “Why is there a child in your lab?”

At that question Tony smiled, a real smile of the variety Rhodey had seen maybe a dozen times in the entire time he had known the man, and there was a softness to his face that Rhodey had never seen.

“Rhodey meet Peter,” There was unguarded fondness on Tony’s face as he looked down at the boy, Peter, and as his friend spoke the next words, Rhodey could clearly hear the pride and joy in each syllable, “He’s my son.”

Wait _what?!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many of you did that catch by surprise? There are hints in earlier chapters but I tried not to make it too obvious (the balancing act between not making it blatantly obvious and supporting it with sufficient background for it to fit).
> 
> I know from the comments a few of you had suspicions - and I will update the tags tomorrow, so that all of you who have been following this regularly don't have it spoiled before you read the update. In general this is what I'll be doing with tags - I won't add them until it is relevant: a) so that I haven't said something is included if it isn't in what the published story covers and b) so I don't spoil anything!
> 
> For those curious about the Italian what Tony says translates as "My son, my precious boy.", whilst Peter's bit is "I love you Daddy."
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed it - you have Rhodey's POV - and don't worry there will be some nice Rhodey - Tony - Peter interactions next chapter. And before you yell at me in the comments - yes I know Tony misquoted Star Wars. Thank you again for all the comments, kudos and bookmarks and I'll see you next Saturday.


	12. Chapter 11

For several long moments Rhodey just stared, mind fixed on that utterly incongruous statement. Tony’s son. Tony had a son.

He’d think he was dreaming if not for the evidence looking straight at him. Now he was looking for it he could definitely see touches of Tony in the boy, a pair of utterly familiar brown eyes in a much younger face, hair the same shade as Tony’s and the same gleam of intelligence looking back at him.

Definitely Tony’s then. But that didn’t explain why the boy was here, or what moron had decided that his friend who couldn’t look after himself at the best of times was the best person to look after a literal child.

“Where’s his mother?”

At that question Tony’s face grew tenser.

“Dead.” The answer was clipped and terse, some of the warmth fading from his friend’s face, even as he drew the boy closer to him. Rhodey inwardly winced, that certainly explained why the boy was here.

He took a deep breath, eyes scanning over the pair in front of him, this time assessing. Peter certainly looked very comfortable around Tony, if the way the boy was half hiding behind the man was any indication, and Tony was treating the boy with a tenderness that he’d never expected to see his wild playboy friend display.

That was good.

He still had concerns and questions he wanted answers to, but the interrogation could wait until Peter wasn’t there. He’d already mis-stepped with the question about the mother, and he had no intention of letting the child hear the discussion he wanted to have with Tony.

In his shock he’d also been incredibly rude and whilst he knew Tony wouldn’t care, his mother would have slapped him over the head for the example he’d been setting in from of an impressionable child.

“Hello there Peter,” he said quietly, crouching down to be closer to the child’s level, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Tony relax marginally, “It’s nice to meet you. I’m James Rhodes, but your dad here calls me Rhodey.”

“Hello Mr Rhodey.”

That startled a laugh out of him, and he threw an amused glance up at Tony.

“You sure he’s yours Tones? Mini-you was never this polite.”

“Definitely mine,” came the proud reply, “Though the politeness is all his.” As he was speaking, Tony ruffled the boy’s hair, gently encouraging him out from his position behind Tony’s leg. “Why don’t you show Rhodey what you’ve been working on kiddo?”

Obligingly Rhodey stepped forward, only now noticing the addition of a child friendly workspace to the lab. That was more forethought that he had expected his friend to possess, though to be fair it could easily have been the work of Jarvis or Pepper.

Mission one was complete.

Tony was intact, sober, and even appeared to have slept and eaten something. Without an immediate crisis he could relax and get to know Tony’s son, as well as try to work out what on earth had led to this scenario. He wasn’t expected back on base until 23:00, so there would be plenty of time to grill Tony once the kid was in bed.

The next few hours were _illuminating._

Rhodey had arrived at the mansion around 16:00 and spent the next two hours simply hanging out in the lab with his best friend and his son.

It gave him a front row seat to see just how much his friend had changed.

Gone was the playboy and in its place was the persona of a doting father. Oh, Tony could still be caustic and sarcastic, and that was something reassuringly familiar in this utterly weird scenario he found himself in, but those comments were unfailing directed at Rhodey or Jarvis.

When interacting with Peter, Tony was kind, gentle and patient, always willing to bestow an affectionate hair ruffle, or shoulder pat, his eyes alight with a love most of the world would claim he couldn’t feel.

It suited him. Rhodey couldn’t quite place it, but there was something more settled about Tony. He possessed a surety that he hadn’t previously seen in his friend, and it was evident that no matter how this had come about, Peter had definitely helped Tony.

For his part Rhodey liked the boy. Peter was somewhat shy, but became more animated when talking about science and it was clear he had inherited Tony’s brains. The kid was as sharp as a whip, and at times it was only the fact he had majored in Engineering at MIT that let him keep up. But for all his shyness it was obvious that the kid adored Tony, looking at him like he could solve all the world’s problems and positively beaming whenever Tony offered a word of praise or encouragement.

Perhaps this was exactly what Tony had needed Rhodey mused, as he exchanged verbal spars with the man. Heaven knows he had never been responsible for someone else before, and he’d certainly never had that sort of unconditional adoration and faith directed at him from anyone.

Regardless, it was a good sign, and if this change was permanent then it could only be for the better.

He received another shock when Tony announced it was time for dinner, packing up his project and leaving the lab voluntarily. However, this was evidently something of a routine because Peter followed suit, quickly falling into step next to his father, and for his part Tony kept a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“You staying for dinner honeybear?”

Tony’s question drifted over to him,

“That depends,” Rhodey bantered back, “What’re we having?”

“Nothing fancy,” came the reply, “Just pasta bake.”

“You’re cooking?” The doubt was thick in his voice, “I thought you were banned from the kitchen after the omelette disaster of ‘05?”

“I’m competent,” the protest came immediately, “And anyway someone has to feed the monster that’s taken over Pete’s stomach. What do you think kiddo – is pasta an acceptable tribute?”

The boy tilted his head in thought, “Will it come with cheese?”

“’Course it will buddy. You can help by grating it.” Tony turned to Rhodey then, levelling an accusatory finger in his direction, “And you aren’t getting out of it either platypus. After you maligned my cooking skills, you’re going to be chopping vegetables to earn your supper.”

Rhodey raised a single eyebrow but the novelty of seeing Tony actually doing a normal adult skill was too tempting to resist, and anyway he was competent enough in the kitchen he could probably stop it from turning into a disaster.

He shouldn’t have worried.

Tony was relaxed and confident in the kitchen, quickly whipping up a simple dinner, and taking far too much pleasure in ordering Rhodey about. He grumbled a bit, mostly for show, and just enjoyed the time with his best friend. It had been far too long since they had been able to simply hang out, and for three awful months he had thought Tony lost completely.

The meal was remarkably relaxed. Pepper joined them, and that was another good change, because frankly Tony’s pining had been ridiculous before Afghanistan, not that he would have admitted to it if pressed. Perhaps those months in captivity had meant Tony had re-evaluated some things?

He’d certainly been silent about what had actually occurred in the desert, all Rhodey had were the injury reports from when they’d found him. There had been some odd things, like his refusal to allow the medics anywhere near his chest, but he had been in reasonably good shape, so perhaps he’d been treated relatively well?

There were too many questions, but judging by the half-lidded eyes of the boy sitting opposite him, he wouldn’t need to wait long for his answers.

Sure enough, not more than ten minutes later Tony stood, “Bedtime I think kiddo.” A nod and a yawn was his answer and the man started to manoeuvre his child towards the door.

“When are you due back on base Rhodes?” He asked over his shoulder.

“Not for a few hours.”

Tony nodded shortly, “Good. Let me get this one settled, and then we can have the chat I know you’re dying to start.”

* * *

Tony smiled tenderly as he sat on Peter’s bed, one hand carding gently through his son’s hair. After the excitement of the day, it was nice to simply sit with his child.

Peter was curled up beneath the blankets, eyelids blinking lazily as he looked up at his father and Tony kept up his ministrations, warmth flooding through him at the way Peter leant into the touch. He was so very lucky, he could claim Peter as his, and the boy had accepted that claim, hadn’t flinched, hadn’t turned away. Instead, the boy had processed the news and then stepped forward into his arms.

“Dad?” It was a sleepy mumble, but the word sent the same thrill through him as it had those few hours earlier.

“Yes Tesoro?” he murmured in reply, carefully keeping his voice at a whisper.

“Are you gonna be okay with Mr Rhodey?”

“Why do you ask that kiddo?”

“He doesn’t remember and he’s your best friend.”

Tony smiled gently, fingers keeping a steady rhythm in the boy’s hair. “I’ll be alright buddy. Rhodey and I have dealt with a lot and we’ll deal with this too.”

He felt Peter relax slightly at his words but there was still a tightness to his child’s features, “What are you worried about kiddo?” he asked softly, “It’s not really Rhodey is it?”

Peter shook his head, eyes darting away from Tony, but not before the man caught sight of the tell-tale glimmer of tears. Immediately Tony shifted so he could draw the boy closer, tucking him up against his side.

“What’s wrong Tesoro?” he asked gently, one arm wrapped around his son’s shoulder’s, the other tracing soothing patterns across his scalp.

“Aunt May and Uncle Ben. He can’t remember and what if she doesn’t remember either? I’m not the same Peter I was a week ago. I’ve got powers and I know things and remember things that they _can’t._ I’ll be a stranger, and they won’t be the same people I remember either. _”_ Peter’s words were coming faster, jumbling together as he became more agitated,

“And I’m not even their nephew anymore, Uncle Ben was my dad’s brother, and what if I’m too different and what if they don’t want me anymore?” The last words came out in a whisper, “I don’t want to lose them too.”

Tony had heard enough.

With one swift moment he adjusted their positions so that Peter was fully encased in his arms, face tucked into the crook of his neck. He rocked them back and forth slightly, hoping the movement would calm his child. He rested his cheek on the top of his son’s head, letting the physical contact soothe Peter as he gathered his thoughts.

“I never met your Uncle,” he started, still keeping his voice low, “But from everything you and your Aunt said he loved you deeply, and having met your Aunt I can say for certain that she loves you fiercely.” He took a deep breath, “And kiddo, that sort of love isn’t conditional on blood. You are their nephew regardless of any actual relation.”

That was the easy part of Peter’s fears dealt with. The second would be far harder, because those fears did have a basis in reality.

If May and Ben didn’t remember they would be faced with a nephew who _was_ different from the seven-year-old they knew. Peter still responded and behaved mostly like a seven-year-old, but he had knowledge and trauma they did not know about or understand, and there _would_ be times he reacted in unexpected ways, with fears and impulses they were unprepared for. That disconnect would hurt everyone.

And they wouldn’t be the Aunt and Uncle Peter knew either. Too much knowledge would be lost, there would be too many things he would have to explain. They would be family true, but not the same family he had known and that would hurt. It was better than losing them completely, but things would never be what they were before. That didn’t mean that things couldn’t be good, but that would take time and be painful in the interim.

He sighed, and pulled Peter closer, pressing a kiss to dark curls.

“They’re alive buddy,” he said softly, “I don’t know if they remember, and if they don’t, I can’t promise it will be easy, and it will almost certainly be painful.”

He would not lie to Peter. Not on something like this.

“But they are alive,” he repeated quietly, “And they love you, and you love them. A lot can be worked out if that is true.”

He reached down and gently lifted Peter’s face from where it was tucked into his shoulder, meeting teary brown eyes with his own gaze. “And Tesoro, no matter what happens, you have me, and you have Pepper and we will help however we can. You won’t face any of this alone.”

“Promise?” Peter’s voice was quiet and timid, but this was a promise Tony was more than happy to make.

“I promise,” he said solemnly, “You will _always_ have me, and Pepper as well.”

Calloused fingers gently wiped away the last remnants of the boy’s tears, before guiding his son’s head back down to rest on his shoulder. A yawn split Peter’s face and Tony smiled.

“Sleep now Tesoro,” he murmured tenderly, “We can work the rest out in the morning.”

Another yawn was his answer and Tony started to hum, rocking Peter gently as if he was a much younger child. The weight in his arms grew heavier as his son snuggled closer and no more than five minutes had passed before the boy was fast asleep.

Moving slowly and carefully so as to not wake him, Tony adjusted Peter so he was tucked underneath the covers. He ran a single hand through the boy’s hair, giving himself another moment to marvel that this child was his, before he turned and headed back downstairs, mentally bracing himself for the upcoming interrogation from his best friend.

Rhodey didn’t disappoint.

“What on earth is going on?” Were the first words he was greeted with, “You’ve got a son who, unless you’ve been hiding his existence, you’ve only just met who is now in your custody. You’ve only just got back after being captured by terrorists then you’ve announced an investigation into weapons production at SI and vanished from view. What are you _thinking_ Tones?”

That stung.

He knew this Rhodey hadn’t seen him in the last fifteen years, hadn’t seen him mature and grow and that if he was the Tony of 2009 those concerns would be valid but despite that it still hurt.

He couldn’t keep the coldness from his voice when he replied,

“I was thinking that I was not the kind of father that would leave the child they loved alone and hurting when I could give them a home.

I was thinking that my weaponry has been used by terrorist organisations to kill and maim innocent people, and that it was my fault.

I was thinking that I could build a world where it was safe for Peter to grow up.”

His voice had risen, although he kept it below a shout, mindful of the boy sleeping on the floor above, and he could see the shock and bemusement on Rhodey’s face, but in that moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“You’re a good father Tony.”

That response took the wind out of his sails. Rhodey saw that and immediately capitalised on it.

“I could see that just from watching the two of you interact. That kid looks at you like you hung the moon, and I’ve never seen you act so gently with anyone before. But Tones, you’ve isolated yourself after a horrid three months and dropped off the radar, you can’t blame me for being concerned.”

Tony couldn’t prevent the wry twist of his lips. This time round he’d been far more restrained in his actions, but it would do no good to point that out. However, some of the defensiveness leaked away from his posture.

“I’ve got Pepper and Peter.” He pointed out, “That’s hardly isolating myself.”

Rhodey levelled him with an unamused glare.

Tony sighed and answered him honestly.

“I can count the number of people I currently trust on one hand. Pep, Peter, Jarvis, you and Happy.”

Rhodey’s eyes narrowed, aware of the glaring omissions on that list. “Does that have to do with Afghanistan, or what you said about your weapons being in the hands of terrorists?”

Tony simply nodded his head in response then jerked his head towards the elevator, “We’ll continue this discussion in the lab. J – let Pepper know she’s welcome to join us once she’s done with work.”

The ride down to the lab was spent in silence but once they’d reached the safety of the lab Tony didn’t pause before he launched into an explanation, motioning Jarvis to bring up the relevant visuals, although he left out any mention of time travel. At this time that would stretch Rhodey’s credulity too far.

By the time he had finished horror was painted over Rhodey’s features.

“So that blue glow…” the man gestured weakly at Tony’s chest.

“Is the only reason I don’t have a heart completely punctured by shrapnel yes.”

“And the reason you don’t trust anyone is that your own godfather…”

“Paid terrorists to kill me, correct.”

Rhodey sat down abruptly, “Gods Tones. This is fucked up.”

His answering smile was bitter and sharp. “I’m also certain that he’s the one who has been selling my weapons to terrorist groups and because I was a blind _idiot,_ I didn’t know what was going on.” His voice was laden with false cheer.

Tony dropped the cheer then and his next words were laced in steel, “And when your superiors ask, you can tell them that Stark Industries will not manufacture another weapon ever again.”

Tellingly Rhodey didn’t argue.

“What will you do instead?” He asked.

“SI or personally?”

“Both.”

SI was easy enough – most of that information would soon be public anyway as the new ranges hit the market but once that topic was exhausted Tony pinned his friend with a serious gaze.

“This doesn’t leave this room. Not until I’m willing to announce it honeybear.”

He waited for Rhodey’s nod before turning his gaze to the ceiling.

“Jarvis – Mark II.”

Tony saw the awe that crossed his best friend’s face as the suit assembled around him, and noted the way his friend’s gaze turned sharp and assessing as he took in some of the capabilities of the suit.

“There’ll be one for you if you want it.” He offered diffidently.

“What does it do?”

The question took him by surprise, for a moment he’d forgotten that this Rhodey wasn’t familiar with the Ironman suits, and their capabilities. However, a smile slowly grew on his face, his natural showman instincts coming to the fore.

The grin he threw at Rhodey then was wild and carefree, full of excitement and promise. He enjoyed flying the suits, particularly when there was no threat. It was always nice to have his creations appreciated, particularly by people who understood some of the difficulties involved in creating them.

He’d spent far too many years having his creations overlooked, or just being expected to perform miracles on demand with very little appreciation for the work that actually went on to make them. The old Avengers team and Shield had been particularly bad when it came to the latter, whilst his father and Stane specialised in the former.

“Watch and learn platypus, watch and learn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm incredibly glad that I've actually managed to post this on schedule - my computer crashed on me on Tuesday, but luckily I managed to extract this and the rest of my files from the hard drive before I had to reset the whole thing to factory settings.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed it - we'll see more of Rhodey later as he only knows part of the chaos that is Tony's life now - don't worry the rest will come along eventually, but Tony has enough sense not to completely break Rhodey with everything at once. And of course angsty fluff with Peter and Tony - after the revelation last chapter I thought nice father-son interactions would be welcomed!
> 
> Thank you again for all the comments, kudos and bookmarks - I definately enjoyed reading them last week, and it was interesting to see which explanations you picked for how Peter is Tony's son, and lovely to read your thoughts on the matter - I wasn't expecting it to divide you that much! 
> 
> I hope you are all well and staying safe and I'll see you this time next Saturday.


	13. Chapter 12

Tony let out a deep breath once Rhodey had left.

Despite what he’d told Peter earlier that evening, interacting with Rhodey had been harder than he had expected. He still trusted his friend, but Rhodey’s lack of faith had hurt and whilst he knew that from the man’s perspective it was warranted, he missed the Rhodey from the future. That man still worried, and didn’t hesitate to smack him over the head when necessary but he had more faith in Tony’s judgement.

He would have to build that back up again. Prove to this Rhodey that he had grown and matured, and that he wasn’t the reckless jackass the man knew. That wasn’t a task he relished but Rhodey was the closest thing he had to a brother and he had no intention of losing that, no matter how much time it would take.

Sighing, he pushed those thoughts from his mind. It wasn’t a problem he could fix with anything but time and effort, and there were other things that required his attention.

“Is Pepper still awake Jarvis?”

“She is Sir. I can ask her to come down here as I presume you wish to discuss today’s revelations with her?”

“Thanks J.”

Pepper appeared no more than a few minutes later. “What’s wrong Tony? Does it have something to do with the not-so-subtle interrogation I got from James about how long you’ve had a son and what happened to his mother?”

Tony winced at that, “Sorry Pep – I didn’t mean to let you walk into that without warning, but in my defence I didn’t expect Rhodey to visit.”

“You’re forgiven as long as you tell me what story you’re spinning – and why you are spinning it - I thought we’d agreed on the family friend’s nephew tale?” There was a degree of real irritation in her voice at that, and Tony let out a long slow breath.

“We won’t need that story any longer,” he said quietly. His gaze was firmly fixed on her face so he saw the flicker of confusion that passed over her features, and the dawning comprehension as he continued to speak. “Jarvis made a discovery when we were looking at Peter’s DNA this afternoon – he is my biological son.”

She sat down abruptly. “How?”

“That was my first question too.” Tony responded lightly, “And if this isn’t some infinity stone mumbo jumbo – a conference in New York in November 2000.”

“Infinity stone?” The bewilderment was plain and Tony responded with a self-depreciating shrug.

“They fulfilled one wish. No reason they shouldn’t have fulfilled another.” He aimed for diffident but Pepper had always been able to see through his masks.

Her demeanour softened at that and something sad flickered across her face, “ _Oh Tony._ ”

He smiled in response, slightly surprised at how easily it came. Despite the guilt that was his constant companion the revelation that Peter was _his_ was nothing but joyful.

“He’s mine Pep,” and he let his pride and love suffuse his expression, “He’s mine, he knows and he called me Dad Pep. I told him and he said he loved me and called me Papà.”

Pepper was smiling now, a light shining in her eyes and growing in intensity as he rambled. As he paused for breath she stepped forward and kissed him.

“Congratulations Dad,” she whispered, “It’s a boy.”

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. “A boy and a girl, Peter and Morgan,” he murmured, “A perfect family.” He felt her hum in agreement but he wasn’t finished yet.

“But there’s one thing still missing. I have a son and a daughter, but that isn’t everything a family needs.”

He released her, stepping back slightly, letting his lips curl up in a tender smile. “I’m afraid there isn’t a pack of reporters waiting behind the door, so I’ll do it properly this time.”

He dropped to one knee, and fished out the ring Happy had bought a few months before in this time. Pepper’s eyes had widened and she brought a trembling hand to cover her mouth.

“Will you marry me Pepper Potts?”

She leant forward and kissed him, “I prefer it without the reporters you impossible man.” The teasing words in her throat came out clogged with tears.

“Is that a yes then?”

She kissed him again, “Yes Tony, I’ll marry you again.” She paused for a few heartbeats before adding “I’m not sure what that says about my good sense that I’ve agreed to marry Tony Stark twice though.”

“Only that you have impeccable taste Miss Potts.”

Her grin was a quicksilver thing, bright and shinning but it dimmed just as quickly, turning more contemplative as she looked more closely at the ring.

“It’s the same.” She said quietly, “How did you get my ring?” There was a hint of wonder in her voice.

“Happy bought it a few months ago in this time,” he responded just as quietly, “Didn’t you believe him when he said he’d been carrying it since 2008?”

She looked at him then, something soft and vulnerable in her gaze, “That long Tony?”

He embraced her again, resting his cheek on her hair. “That long Pepper.”

* * *

May blinked awake slowly.

She’d been conscious before but most of those memories were hazy. Quick questions that she struggled to answer, hands pressing down on her legs, poking and prodding that she could hardly feel, worried voices and throughout it all a steady thrum of pain, pain, pain.

Slowly she took stock of her body. There was a dull ache all across her upper torso, concentrated on her back and her side. Something tugged at her hand and turning her gaze to the side she was unsurprised to see an IV line.

She’d had surgery. She could remember that much.

Why had she had surgery?

She frowned, trying to remember. Her legs. That was it, there had been something wrong with her legs. But they didn’t hurt? She could hardly feel them.

She could hardly feel them.

Fear rose up then, sharp and cloying. She couldn’t feel her legs. Focussing she tried to move her foot, but the muscles didn’t even twitch. She tried again, focussing all of her effort on just getting the muscles to move but nothing happened.

She could still feel something. It was faint but there _was_ sensation below her waist. But her foot wouldn’t move.

“Good morning May.” A cheerful voice broke her out of her thoughts, and she looked up to see one of the younger nurses, Anna, make their way into the room. “It’s nice to see you awake. How are you feeling?”

May managed to muster a weak smile in response, but that would do for the pleasantries, she had more important things on her mind right now. “What’s wrong with me? What’s going on?”

Anna’s smile fell. “What do you remember?” She asked quietly, even as she busied herself adjusting drips and checking monitors.

May racked her brain. How _had_ she got here? Memories returned to her in a sudden wave and a new spike of fear shot straight through her.

“Peter – Ben,” the names came out as a gasp. “He was ill, and then the car…”

“Ben’s still in the ICU.” Anna interrupted hurriedly, “But so far his prognosis is good. Dr Johnson is his primary physician and will be able to tell you more. Peter, well,” she hesitated then before ploughing on, “He wasn’t hurt in the crash and was recovering well. There’ll be someone coming to talk to you about him in a bit but as far as I’m aware he’s safe.”

Tension seeped out of her at that. Peter was safe. Ben was alive. But there were still unanswered questions.

“What about me?” Her voice was quiet, hesitant. A suspicion was growing in her mind, but she didn’t want to voice it aloud.

“Dr Francis is pleased with your prognosis.” Anna hedged but that was enough of an answer. May had worked at this hospital for twelve years, and been a nurse on the ICU wards for seven of those. She knew all the main doctors and knew their specialisms. Dr Francis was the leading Neurological Surgeon.

“What grade is it?” She asked quietly.

“ASIA-C.” The answer was given in the same tone and May let out a long slow breath. That meant the injury wasn’t complete. There was a chance she would walk again but she had seen patients with these sorts of injuries before. It would be long recovery, and that was assuming she ever regained full functionality.

The next few hours passed quickly in a battery of tests and discussions. Dr Francis talked her through her injury and she listened numbly as he explained the surgery she had undergone and the likely course her recovery would take. It was sobering. She had known it would not be an easy or short recovery, but having the numbers put on it made things harder.

Dr Francis estimated she would need to spend a couple more weeks in hospital – mainly to monitor her spine following the emergency decompression surgery, before she would need to be transferred to a subacute rehabilitation facility. Her stay there would be measured in months, precise numbers depending on her progress and what sensation and motor control she regained.

That was one of the more positive aspects. It turned out she did have some motor control below the waist, the ability to clench the upper muscles in her legs and twitch some of the lower ones as well. He had been very pleased by that, saying that the more sensation and control she had now, the better her chances of regaining more would be.

Dr Johnson also popped her head in briefly to reassure her that Ben was doing well, and that they were hoping to bring him out of the coma tomorrow at which point they would assess his progress.

She was reaching her threshold for bad news.

It could have been worse. She knew that.

She was alive, Ben was alive, Peter was alive. She was recovering, she _would_ recover even if she never had full use of her legs. They had been lucky.

She didn’t feel lucky.

She felt overwhelmed, scared and numb at the same time. A split second and their lives were turned upside down. Would she ever work again? Would Ben? How would they pay for treatment? What would happen to Peter? What had happened to Peter? Was he in foster care now?

Questions, fears and thoughts tumbled round in her brain pulling her deeper and deeper into a panicked spiral. Too many questions, not enough answers.

The squeak of the door hinges broke her out of her thoughts and she looked up to see Anna appear once again.

“How are you feeling May?” She asked quietly, surveying the monitors with a practiced eye, before coming and adjusting the drip bag on the IV. “If you are feeling up to it, there is a gentleman here to talk to you about Peter.”

For a brief moment she considered asking for him to come back later but that thought was smothered a second later. This was an offer of answers, and she needed to know that Peter was safe, that he had got through the accident unharmed and recovered from whatever illness had been causing that awful fever.

“Send him in please Anna,” she requested quietly. Her colleague nodded, before leaning closer conspiratorially,

“He looks rather important – like one of those lawyers you see on TV. Do you want me to raise you up and tidy you up a bit first?”

“Yes please.”

She didn’t have to think about it. Why there would be a fancy lawyer waiting to speak to her about her nephew she had no idea, but it didn’t bode well. She therefore needed to be at her best, well the best she could be from a hospital bed, but with Anna’s help she would at least be able to look them in the eye.

“Thank you” she said quietly once Anna was finished but the younger nurse just grinned at her and winked before exiting the room. No more than five minutes later a man entered and May was immediately grateful for Anna’s help.

He looked out of place in a hospital room, dressed in a sharp grey suit that, unless she missed her guess, cost more than her salary, but he had an aura of confidence and professionalism about him that couldn’t be faked.

“Mrs Parker I presume? I am Mr Sherwin, and I’m glad to see you are recovering.”

May returned the greeting, nodding her assent when he motioned to the chair next to her bed. In no more than a few seconds he was seated and meeting her own enquiring gaze with his own steady look.

“Now before we get down to business, I would first like to reassure you that Peter is safe and well.” He opened the briefcase he was carrying and withdrew a tablet, before turning it to face her.

An image of her nephew in the middle of constructing a Lego contraption filled the screen and she felt some tension leave her at the image. Peter looked healthy, and happy. A far cry from the fevered boy who had been whimpering and crying in the back seat.

She didn’t recognise the room, but she didn’t expect to. They didn’t have any remaining family, and none of their friends were in a position to look after a child. At that point the State normally stepped in. Regardless, it was the first bit of unequivocally good news she’d had all day.

Mr Sherwin waited for a few moments, giving her the time she needed to settle her thoughts. However, once she was slightly more settled he spoke again.

“Mrs Parker, how much do you know of what happened once Peter was admitted to the hospital?”

“Nothing. Why? What happened?” Her voice came out hard.

The man’s professional demeanour didn’t falter, however May did get the distinct sense he would rather not be the one delivering this news.

“Please remember that he is safe now,” Mr Sherwin started with, and worry pooled in her gut, “However, approximately sixty hours after being admitted, Peter went missing for approximately eighteen hours before he was safely found.”

She drew in a sharp breath, but the man was still talking, “Investigations are ongoing to discover how he was able to leave the hospital, and I do not have all those details. The part that is pertinent to this discussion is that, during the course of the search for Peter his DNA was analysed.”

He paused slightly, before continuing. “The results were surprising to all involved, and this is where I come in.”

He took a deep breath before looking May straight in the eye.

“Mrs Parker were you aware that Richard Parker was not Peter’s biological father?”

_What?_

“No. No I wasn’t.” The words came numbly, before she had even thought them through. Peter not Richard’s? It didn’t make sense.

But looking back, the timing of Mary’s pregnancy had been strange. She’d been away at that conference in New York and Richard had been in Europe for a month. And then they’d married so fast, that she’d certainly had the impression the pregnancy was unplanned.

They’d never said anything, and Richard had never indicated that he was suspicious about Peter’s parentage, but the timing could work. And now she thought about it, Peter resembled Mary but there were no obvious traces of Richard in his features beyond the superficial.

She refocused her mind. There would be time later to work out exactly how this had happened, what mattered now was how this affected Peter, and she asked as much.

“Peter is currently staying with his father. He would have been placed in temporary foster care regardless, given that you and your husband are not currently in a position to look after him.”

She nodded at that. It was what she had been expecting. However,

“What will happen once we have recovered?”

Mr Sherwin deflected that delicately, “That will of course be a matter for you to discuss with my client once the situation is clearer. I can say that he is interested in working with you, rather than against you, for Peter’s sake.”

She considered pressing for more details, but decided against it. She was realistic enough to know that this was not a matter that could be easily solved when she had no idea when she and Ben would be recovered sufficiently to look after an active seven-year-old. However, there _was_ one fact that had not been mentioned.

“Who is Peter’s father?”

The lawyer’s face remained impassive, as he withdrew a sheaf of documents and May caught sight of the lettering at the top.

An NDA.

She’d seen some of these before, often surrounding particularly high-profile patients, and had even signed a couple. Who was Peter’s father that he was going to these lengths?

Mr Sherwin caught the incredulity that flashed across her face. “My client has had problems with the media before, and does not wish to expose Peter to the media circus that would be inevitable should his parentage become public knowledge.”

At her raised eyebrow he continued, “It is not a true NDA, simply a contract that states that you won’t leak his identity to the media, or to those not stipulated in the document without permission.”

“Penalty clauses?”

“Not included,” May thought she caught just a hint of disapproval in the man’s tone, “Save that you could be prosecuted for breach of contract.”

He paused, then added, “My client wishes you to know that he considers you family, as you are family to his son, and thus will not insist you sign the contract. However, he hopes that you do, or abide with its terms regardless, for Peter’s sake.”

May read through the paperwork carefully, incredulity still pulsing in her gut. It _was_ less onerous than previous ones she had signed, and true to the lawyer’s word, there were no obvious penalties, financial or otherwise for breaking it, just the remedy through the courts. The list of people she could discuss it with was also reasonable, Ben, Peter, any legal counsel she chose and those whom he had shared the knowledge with.

“Thank you.” Mr Sherwin said once she had finished, “I will copy these and leave a copy with you for you to sign if you wish to before I leave the hospital.”

He paused then, before continuing,

“Peter’s father is Tony Stark.”

She signed the contract.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello - I hope you all enjoyed the chapter and a huge thank you for all the comments, kudos, bookmarks and subscriptions.
> 
> Also - What the heck? I've managed to maintain a weekly posting schedule for three whole months? How was the first chapter of this posted before the US election? Thank you for all the support - from new and old readers alike - it would be far harder to write each week without it.
> 
> So - May's perspective for the first time - I hope you all enjoyed it, and for those of you who are curious ASIA stands for the American Spinal Injury Association which is where I got a lot of my info on spinal injuries from, as well as going far too deep into medical literature. You end up researching really weird things in the name of fanfic sometimes! I will admit to virtually no legal knowledge however, so if there is anything glaringly wrong with the NDA stuff sorry (feel free to scream at me about it in the comments...). 
> 
> And Pepper now knows, and a proposal as well (I hope that satisfied desires for Pepper-Tony content) - though in the interest of keeping the rating on this fic, I intend to maintain a fade to black policy on more adult romantic moments.
> 
> Again a huge thank you to all of you, and I'll see you next Saturday!


	14. Chapter 13

Despite, or maybe because of the events of the previous night, Tony found himself wide awake by 5am. Giving up sleep as a lost cause he headed down to the lab. He had about two hours before Pepper would leave for SI, and Peter would wake up and want breakfast so he might as well do something productive with that time.

“What’s the progress on infiltrating Stane and SI Jarvis?”

“77% of the SI database has been processed and catalogued. I will have a full report for you in approximately four hours. I have finished cataloguing Stane’s hard drive and I have both a report as well as several pieces of audio I believe will be of interest. Would you like the report or the audio first Sir?”

“Audio first J.”

That would give him the opportunity to form his own conclusions before he looked at the conclusions Jarvis had drawn. The AI was good, but Jarvis hadn’t lived through all the later events, and Tony didn’t want to take the chance that they might miss something, simply because the AI didn’t have the knowledge to know it was important.

“Very well Sir. Might I recommend that you sit first?”

“That bad?”

There was a beat before the AI replied. “There are several events I believe you will find distressing Sir.”

“Very well Jarvis – I’ll let you fuss this time.”

“I would not need to fuss if you took better care of yourself Sir.”

Tony simply rolled his eyes in response but he did sit down and as soon as he was comfortable Jarvis spoke again.

“There are several recordings of telephone conversations, of which four seem to be significant. Would you like me to play them in chronological order, or in the order of importance?”

“Chronological.”

The first recording started and Tony winced as the guttural voice Raza filtered through the speakers. He’d known they’d filmed a video of him and sent it to somebody, and he’d later assumed it was Stane, but he’d never heard the follow up call.

However, as disturbing as it was to hear Obadiah and Raza bargain over just how much his life was worth, there was nothing truly revolutionary in this particular recording. It would however, be excellent evidence if he needed it.

The next two calls were no more illuminating. The simply detailed the initial contacts Stane had made with the Ten Rings, agreements to supply weaponry and the original hit Stane had put out on his convoy. Again, very useful evidence and he now had everything he needed to thoroughly destroy Stane, but nothing unexpected. Lists of what had been supplied where however would make it far easier to track down the remaining weaponry.

“Last one Jarvis.”

The audio started once more, and a voice he half recognised came over the speakers. Tony frowned trying to place it, he knew it was familiar but he couldn’t quite identify the speaker.

He listened intently as Stane and the man discussed weapons contracts, supplies for groups that Tony had never heard of, however with a variety of names that sounded vaguely Russian or Eastern European. That answered one mystery at least – he now knew how his weaponry had appeared in Sokovia. Stane was being remarkably subservient however, and that also set alarm bells ringing.

It wasn’t until they approached the end of the call that the pieces clicked together and Tony finally placed the voice.

He’d only sparingly interacted with the man, primarily when he was trying to demand custody of Loki and the Tesseract, but he certainly knew of the man, and knew exactly who he worked for.

His guess was confirmed a few seconds later when Stane’s voice echoed out of the speakers.

“The orders will be completed within the month Mr Secretary.”

Alexander Pierce.

Secretary to the World Security Council and one of Hydra’s senior figures. His weaponry had been funnelled into Hydra’s hands, into the hands of the organisation who had murdered his parents. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he nearly missed the last exchange, but when the words registered, he was glad he was sitting down.

“If you are still looking for a way to deal with _unfortunate_ elements, might I suggest the Ten Rings? They have done some exceptional work for the Council in the past.”

“Your suggestion is most appreciated. It is so hard to find reliable contractors.”

“I’ll get one of my staffers to pass the details on. It has been a pleasure doing business with you Obadiah.”

“Thank you, Secretary Pierce. I will notify you when the work is complete.”

The call finished quickly after that but there was nothing more of importance in it. The key revelation was of Hydra’s involvement.

“I’d like that report now J,” he said, managing to keep his voice level.

A hologram popped up on the screen in front of him, and he frowned as he read through it. The AI had done exceptionally thorough work as always and had complied a detailed account of exactly what Stane had sold, and to whom.

Slowly a picture was emerging. Tony was coming to the conclusion that Stane himself wasn’t Hydra, the email trails and conversations with Pierce and his lackeys suggested that he was a useful weapons supplier but nothing more than that.

That was a small mercy. Stane had grown unscrupulous and power hungry and tried to have him killed, but he wasn’t actively working for the organisation that had murdered his parents.

He just didn’t ask questions. Didn’t care where the weaponry went as long as he got paid.

Tony would _ruin_ him.

The only question now was how. How would he use the evidence Jarvis had accumulated, and how would he ensure Stane could never be a threat again? Not to his children, his wife, to him.

It would have to be perfect. He needed a plan that would ensure that Stane couldn’t escape, could never come back and be a threat. Part of him wanted Stane dead, but the more rational side of his mind prevailed. He could not afford to murder the man in cold blood, it would be far too risky a course of action and he had a family he could not afford to lose.

He took a deep breath. There would be time to plan later, once his mind and emotions had settled. For now, he needed to check on Pepper and Peter, to make sure they were safe.

Logically he knew they were. He knew that there was no way Stane would have got inside the mansion in the few short hours he’d been down in the lab, but hearing his own death being discussed in such blunt terms, by the first man to betray him had pulled old trauma to the fore.

His feet carried him straight to Peter’s room. The sunlight from the early morning shone through round the edge of the curtains, illuminating the sleeping boy.

A few quick strides took him to the side of the bed and Tony settled himself on the mattress, careful not to wake his son. Gently he reached out and stroked an errant curl back, letting his fingers linger on the boy’s cheek.

Peter’s pulse thrummed beneath his fingertips, warm breaths puffed out against the pillow and the undeniable proof his child was safe and alive, soothed the fear in his heart. Leaning down he pressed a feather-light kiss to the boy’s forehead, before standing and heading for the kitchen .

Peter was safe, now he needed to check on Pepper.

His wife – now fiancé - was where he had expected to find her, sipping her morning coffee with the remnants of her breakfast on the plate in front of her. The remaining tension seeped from his frame at the sight. She was safe.

“Good morning Pep,” He greeted her quietly.

She glanced up and smiled in response, “Good morning Tony - I’m surprised you emerged from the lab before Peter woke.”

He winced, “Jarvis finished the report on Stane. He’ll transfer a copy to you but there were a few nasty surprises.”

She was familiar enough with his habits that he didn’t need to expand on that, her eyes darkening with understanding. “Anything with urgent implications?”

He shook his head in the negative, nothing in that report would change what she needed to do at SI today, and she would need to leave within a few minutes if she was to get there on time.

“Okay, Jarvis could you transfer that file to me once I return from SI please.”

“Of course, Miss Potts.”

She nodded decisively before standing and preparing to leave, however before she left the mansion, she came over and kissed his cheek. The touch was the last tangible reminder he needed of her safety, but still…

“You have your gauntlet right?” His paranoia had to be satisfied.

“I do,” she confirmed, “Will that be all Mr Stark?”

“That will be all Miss Potts.”

He stayed until she left the room before he shook himself, and focussed again. There was work to be done today, tech to make and plans to be made, a conversation with May and the hospital that would, most likely, not be easy for anyone, but least of all Peter. He couldn’t afford to be distracted.

* * *

Peter fidgeted on his stool, casting yet another glance at the clock in the corner. It read 10:35, only five minutes later than when he had last checked. Sighing he turned back to his project and tried to focus.

He knew he had nearly got the webbing right. It was completely non toxic and capable of making a thick matting that would hold together any injury but it either lasted for fifteen minutes which wasn’t nearly long enough, or for nearly thirty hours, which was far too long. He just needed to tweak the formula slightly so it lasted somewhere in the perfect two-five hours before dissolving.

He looked up at the clock again.

10:38

Footsteps echoed behind him, accompanied by a familiar irregular heartbeat, then a gentle hand came down to rest on his shoulder.

“You alright there kiddo?”

Peter twisted round and met his father’s concerned eyes, leaning into the hand that lightly gripped his shoulder. The touch was both grounding and comforting.

“I’m okay,” he replied quietly, fingers twisting in the hem of his t-shirt, “It’s just that you said that we were calling May at 11:30 and well…”He trailed off, unsure exactly how to put it into words.

“And you’re excited but worried as well and it’s all twisted up inside you making you restless.” Mr Stark finished for him.

Peter nodded. “I want to see her, I’ve missed her but I’m scared she won’t be _my_ Aunt May.”

“I know buddy.” His father’s voice was soft, and his other hand came up to hold Peter in a loose embrace, as the boy sank willingly into the comfort.

The man didn’t say anything further, simply holding Peter close and he was grateful for that. He knew that his father couldn’t promise that things would be alright, or make his fears vanish, but he was here, and that was the best reassurance he could give. Peter relaxed back into the hold, letting his father’s presence dull his fear.

After a few minutes of silence Mr Stark spoke again, “Why don’t we go upstairs, and we can build some Lego, or watch a cartoon for the next half hour.” It was phrased as a question but there was a firmness in his father’s voice that told him that it wasn’t a suggestion.

He didn’t want to argue. He hadn’t been making any progress anyway so he nodded again and didn’t resist as he was gently steered out of the lab and up into the living area of the mansion.

“Cartoons or Lego?”

If he got out the Lego, he knew that Mr Stark would simply sit on one of the sofas, working on his tablet whilst he kept an eye on Peter. If he chose cartoons however, he would be able to sit next to his father, and whilst the man would normally keep working, Peter would be able to curl into his side, and he really didn’t want to lose the comfort that physical affection provided. It made the decision easy.

“Cartoons please.”

“You heard him J – bring up something suitable.”

Scooby Doo popped up on the screen and Peter promptly curled into his father’s side, snuggling into the arm that was wrapped around his shoulders. He fixed his eyes on the screen in front of him, and let the animated antics and Mr Stark’s steady presence distract him until Jarvis’ voice echoed through the room.

“You have an incoming call from May Parker Sir.”

Peter shot upwards, nerves and excitement churning in his belly. It was finally time, but he still hesitated, casting a glance towards his father, and the man squeezed Peter’s shoulder in silent reassurance, before also straightening from his slouched position on the sofa.

“Pull her up on the screen J.”

Immediately the TV screen flicked and seconds later the face of May Parker was looking at them. Peter swallowed, hard. His Aunt looked bad. There was bruising on her face, and in the background, he could see a whole host of monitors, and he could see various tubes and wires snaking away from her body. It was obvious she was injured, and was injured badly.

“Hello, can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear Mrs Parker,” Came Tony’s reply, “I hope the tablet is working well for you.”

“It’s excellent Mr Stark,”

“Call me Tony please, you are family after all.” He interjected smoothly, and she smiled and nodded,

“Then you must call me May.” She replied, before switching her attention to the one person who had yet to speak, “Hello Peter.”

“You’re hurt. Hurt _badly_.” He blurted it out without thinking, still shocked by her appearance.

He’d known she was injured; he had been warned in advance by Mr Stark. His father had sat him down and talked him through the fact that she had hurt her spine, that it would be months of recovery and her exact prognosis was still uncertain, but knowing it and seeing it were very different things.

Her smile dimmed, “It’s not as bad as it looks baby. We Parkers are made of stern stuff; it’ll take more than a little accident to keep us down.” By the end her tone was light, and she was smiling at him.

“But you don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine and I’m getting better. Now why don’t you tell me what you’ve been up to for the last couple of days?”

Peter knew what she was doing. He knew she was trying to distract him from the injury that _was_ just as bad as it looked. He wasn’t easily distracted though, he lost far too many parents to be complacent.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay Aunt May?” There was a plaintive note in his voice and he felt his father’s hand come and rest gently on his shoulder in a silent gesture of comfort.

“I’m sure Peter. I will be just fine, there’s no need to worry.” Her voice was still soft, but there was a finality to it that Peter recognised, the hint that he should drop this line of questioning because he wouldn’t get anymore answers. He replied anyway.

“I always worry.” He felt the hand on his shoulder tighten slightly, a calloused thumb rubbing soothing circles on his shoulder blade.

“You’re too young to worry,” came the quick retort, but her eyes were smiling, “You aren’t allowed to worry about me until you are at least fifty. Now, enough about me. What have you been doing the last few days?”

Peter swallowed. His next sentences were a test. He’d had all morning to think about what he could say that would let him find out whether Aunt May remembered as well, without giving anything away if she didn’t.

“Dad took me down to his workshop, and it’s really really cool.” He didn’t have to feign enthusiasm for this bit, the next words were the ones that were important. He kept his eyes fixed on her as he continued, searching for any hint that she remembered, “I’ve got my own workstation and I’ve been making webbing - like a spider’s - that could be used in emergencies, like if someone was shot.”

He paused, scanning her face hopefully. If she remembered there were so many clues littered in that sentence.

“That sounds exciting Peter,” she said, but there wasn’t a hint of recognition in her gaze, no reaction to anything he’d said, “How did you come up with that idea?”

He fumbled something about spiders being cool, and their webs being super-strong and wanting to keep people safe, his eyes looking for something, anything that might indicate that she remembered.

He found nothing.

The hand on his shoulder tightened, a simple reminder of his father’s presence. _I’m here, you aren’t alone_ , and Peter leant into it, soaking up all the comfort he could.

“You’ll have to show me it once it’s finished,” May continued, “But it sounds like you’ve been having a lot of fun.”

Peter just nodded. He wasn’t sure he could trust his voice if he tried to speak, and he could already feel the tears pricking at his eyes. She didn’t remember. He’d lost his Aunt and Uncle _again._ It wasn’t fair. Why did he have to lose everyone he loved? He’d gained his father but lost his Aunt and Uncle and that wasn’t _fair._

They were alive, both Aunt May and Uncle Ben but they weren’t the Aunt and Uncle he remembered and that hurt. It was better than losing them completely but it still hurt. He wanted them back and he couldn’t have them.

Dimly he was aware of the fact that Mr Stark had picked up the thread of the conversation and was calmly chatting with Aunt May. However, soon he was being nudged gently, and he dragged his attention back up to the screen where his Aunt was smiling at him, although there was concern hidden in her eyes.

“Say goodbye buddy,” the instruction was soft, “We’ll call again at the weekend.”

Peter managed to paste on a smile and say goodbye, though judging by the frown that twisted May’s lips, his Aunt had seen straight through the façade that he was okay. However, she didn’t press, opting instead to simply say her farewells, and reiterate that she would speak to them again soon.

The instant the call disconnected Peter was pulled straight onto Tony’s lap, and his father’s arms wrapped around him, one palm cradling the back of his head. It was a cocoon of safety and protection and he melted into it.

“I’m sorry Tesoro, I’m so so sorry.” The murmur was feather soft, but it broke the last of his resolve. Peter buried his face in crook of his father’s neck and sobbed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for all the interest in this story - I'm consistently amazed at just how much you all seem to enjoy it and thank you to everyone who has taken the time to leave a comment/kudos/bookmark. They really help me to keep writing - particularly in such a grey and horrid month as January.
> 
> So quite a lot of plot this week, as well as a dose of angst for poor Peter - and there will definitely be more of that to come given there is so much potential for interesting scenes there. And in terms of Stane - I have plans!
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed it, and see you next week.


	15. Chapter 14

Tony sighed as he picked up his coffee, throwing a quick thank you to Pepper as he did so. Peter was finally in bed and asleep, but this afternoon had been hard. The boy had been very quiet once his initial storm of weeping had subsided, and reluctant to leave Tony’s arms.

The whole situation was cruel and his heart ached for Peter. If he could take the pain away, he would, but there wasn’t anything here he could fix, nothing he could invent that would make everything alright again.

It was an odd sort of frustrating helplessness that he had only really become familiar with once he’d accepted Peter into his life all those years ago, and again when Morgan was born. The wish to soothe, to take the pain away and protect them from everything the world could throw at them.

He couldn’t protect Peter from this. May didn’t remember, and Ben couldn’t, that was the situation they faced. All he could do now was comfort and support his child through the coming days, making sure Peter didn’t try to do anything silly or self-destructive, and that by the end of everything he still had an Aunt and Uncle.

He didn’t yet know what that relationship would end up looking like, but he knew how much Peter loved them, and knew that if his son let that relationship die, even with all the difficulties ahead, he would regret it, and it would end up hurting just as much, if not more in the long run.

It would be hard though, and take time and patience. 

There were also explanations he owed May and Ben once they were in a position where they could hear them. It was his responsibility to explain what had happened, the fact Peter was enhanced and the memories he had. That _was_ something he could protect Peter from, and he would.

The lab had proved to be a welcome distraction for both of them, but he’d kept Peter close nevertheless, deciding to work together on nanotech rather than letting the boy work on his own projects. It had let him keep a closer eye on his child, as well as making it easier for him to provide physical reassurance whenever it was needed.

And it had been needed.

Peter had been particularly clingy for the rest of the day, scarcely willing to go more than a metre away from him. It wasn’t a surprise. The child had lost so much, it made sense that he would want to stay close to the parent that was there, and Tony was more than willing to indulge him.

Peter was his son. It was his job. To wipe away every tear, to hold him after every nightmare, to shield and shelter him when the storms raged. If what Peter needed was to stick as close as his shadow, to hold on and be held in return, then that was what he’d do, for as long as it took.

That part was easy. It was everything else that was hard, but the only solution to that was time and effort. Patience was another thing he had learnt since becoming a father, and he would need every dreg in the days to come.

A hand gently massaging the back of his neck broke him out of his thoughts, and he sighed again, turning towards Pepper.

“Rough day?” The question was sympathetic, and he nodded in reply,

“May doesn’t remember.”

She winced at that, “No wonder Peter was subdued. Is there anything I can do?”

“There isn’t much that can be done,” he responded quietly, “It will just take time – although if you could sort the legalities, I’d appreciate it.”

“Joint custody I presume?” At his nod she continued, “As they never adopted him that will be easy enough to arrange – particularly given the bias towards biological parents.”

“It’d be worth getting the paperwork ready to push full custody as well,” he added, “I hope everything works out with May and Ben, but I don’t want to risk it.”

She nodded at that. It was always safer to have contingency plans, and Peter was too important for any mistakes to be made.

The silence stretched for a few minutes as they savoured their coffee before Tony abruptly changed the subject.

“I plan to confront Stane at the next board meeting.”

Pepper raised a single eyebrow, moving over to the sofa, and Tony followed, elaborating on his plans as he went, “That gives me three weeks – the nanotech will be ready by then, and I can use that to restrain him and prevent collateral damage.”

“You intend to ruin him then?”

“You’ve read Jarvis’ report. I’ve got enough evidence to force them to accept the halt to weapons production, and doing it when they are off balance will be easier. As for ruining him – well his crimes will see him serving a life sentence at minimum, with a high chance he’s executed – particularly if we stack the jury.”

Left unspoken was the fact that execution was the preferred outcome. Stane couldn’t be a threat when he was dead, but he wasn’t dangerous enough for Tony to risk killing him personally unless it was a clear-cut case of self-defence. Fundamentally, Stane was a businessman who didn’t have the scientific background to make anything SI produced.

He could use the weaponry, Tony knew that first-hand, but he’d needed a team of scientists to create the Iron Monger, and the reactor from Tony’s own chest. Once he was isolated, arrested and cut off from his powerbase he wasn’t much of a threat.

He was someone they could let the courts and the might of SI’s legal team deal with, and that came with the benefit that it was all above board and legal – well if you ignored how he had obtained the evidence in the first place. But that was something they could work around, Jarvis could ensure that Stane couldn't destroy the evidence on the hard-drive, as well as hiding things they didn't want to end up in the hands of the FBI, and then all he needed to do was let the evidence be 'discovered' by the proper authorities.

“I can have the medical department fully operational by then. We’ll need it to weather the inevitable public outrage.” Pepper noted, “On that front, I was thinking of reaching out to Maya Hansen – her research could be very useful, and it would get it out of Killian’s hands.”

That was another threat they could neutralise before it began. Without Extremis Killian was far less of a threat, and it _was_ promising technology that could be adapted for good. If they could avoid the Mandarin terrorist attacks that would make the coming years smoother.

“You’re better placed to do that than I am,” Tony admitted, “Given what she said during the Mandarin affair, I doubt she would be pleased to have an approach from me. However, Cho seems amenable to a partnership – I’ve only just started correspondence, but she seems tentatively interested, so that’s a positive.”

“Any luck on finding Banner?” Pepper asked next, and Tony shrugged,

“I’ve got Jarvis running searches, but he’s already gone to ground somewhere in Brazil, and so few of their records are digitized we’ll need to get lucky. We’ve got a year or so before he resurfaces in Culver and Harlem, so that’s the back-up option if we can’t find him.” He paused as another thought occurred to him, “Of course when we find Banner I’ll have to deal with Ross.”

The spectre of the Accords and the Raft hung heavily across the room. They were both aware of exactly what Ross was capable of, his prejudices and exactly how deep his hatred and fear of mutates and superpowered individuals went. He had done far too much damage as Secretary of State.

Ross was only one of the threats he had to deal with. In the chaos of making sure Peter was safe, getting the reactor and suits sorted, and dealing with Stane, making more than vague long-term plans had fallen by the wayside. That would be something that he would need to remedy and soon.

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly. “I need to make a list – make sure you remind me if I forget J – I’m going to miss something otherwise.”

Pepper smiled wryly, “How very organised of you Mr Stark,” she quipped, and he rolled his eyes at her, a hint of a smile playing around his lips.

“I’m not that bad when it comes to things that are actually important.”

“Your definition of important is rather _specific_.” She pointed out sweetly.

“I’m Tony Stark – no other definitions matter.”

That comment only netted him a flash of a smile, but the exchange had lifted the mood in the room substantially, however there were a few things he still needed to deal with.

“We need to set aside a time to actually make a more detailed long-term plan – probably pulling Rhodey in for some of it as well.”

“It can wait until Stane is out the way,” Pepper pointed out pragmatically, “Nothing is immediately time sensitive, and even you have limits.”

He acknowledged that with a simple nod. Pepper certainly knew his limits better than most, and if he was being honest with himself, the chances of him actually focusing on that list for a few weeks were low anyway.

“I will be running some missions out to destroy weapons caches,” he warned her, “Not as many as last time – I can’t leave Peter unless you’re here – but I do need to destroy certain stockpiles sooner rather than later.”

He leant back, his eyes never leaving hers, although he could see the understanding in their depths.

“I’ve got Stane’s list and that should make it more efficient but I’ll probably be gone for at least two nights every week.”

“I don’t like it.” Pepper’s voice was frank, “But I understand it – just give me warning before each mission please – and perhaps you can avoid playing dodge with a pair of Raptors this time?”

He barked out a laugh, “No promises about the Raptors honey. I will give Rhodey advanced notice though.”

She smiled and he counted it as a victory, “One more thing.” He raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her.

“You get to tell Peter what’s happening.”

* * *

“Sir, Master Peter is in distress.”

Jarvis’s voice echoed around the lab and Tony looked up from the schematics he was pouring over. He was already moving by the time he asked, “Where is he Jarvis?”

“He is still in his bedroom, I believe he had a nightmare.”

Tony just nodded in reply, feet already carrying him towards Peter’s room. As he got closer he could hear quiet whimpers coming from behind the door, and his heart clenched.

He didn’t bother to knock, his footsteps, heartbeat and breathing would have alerted Peter to his presence, and he wasn’t going to wait whilst the child was in distress. He pushed the door open, and without a word Jarvis raised the light levels so he could see the child curled into a miserable ball on the bed.

Two quick strides brought him to the bed, and by the time he reached it, Peter was already reaching for him. Tony didn’t hesitate to wrap Peter up in his embrace, and for the second time in the day a tear stained face was buried in his chest.

“Shh, Tesoro,” He murmured, “It’s alright, I’m here.”

“D-d-dad.” The whimper tore at his heart and he held Peter tighter.

“Dad’s here,” the reassurance fell easily from his lips, “You’re safe, I’m here.”

Peter was shaking.

“Titan – it was Titan but I didn’t dust.” Each word forced itself out around a sob. “You disappeared, and May, and, and Ben.” The boy’s voice stuttered, but he gasped a breath and continued, “Your heart stopped. I _heard_ it and then you dusted and I couldn’t hold on and then they did as well and I was the only one left and it was empty and I was _alone.”_

Small fingers clung onto him with every inch of superhuman strength and Tony pulled Peter impossibly closer, letting the warm weight in his arms reassure himself as much as Peter.

“I’m here Tesoro, Dad’s here, you’re not alone.” He repeated the words as many times as necessary, the mantra echoing through the room.

“Not dust?”

“Not dust. Never again.” It was a vow as much as it was a reassurance, and slowly Peter started to calm, sobs gradually dying away to simple sniffles. Throughout it all, his grip on Tony didn’t waver, and the man kept up a steady stream of murmured reassurances.

And if holding Peter and focussing on calming him down kept his mind from dwelling on the memories the accounting of his son’s nightmare had stirred up – well, so much the better.

Eventually the last of Peter’s sobs became hiccups, eyes becoming half lidded as fatigue won out over fear. It was frankly an ungodly hour of the morning and Tony wasn’t surprised that Peter was quickly becoming sleepy.

He shifted position slightly, ready to lay Peter back in his own bed, but the instant he started to move the child’s eyes flew open, and he grabbed back at Tony’s shirt, twisting his fingers into the fabric and sticking.

“Don’t go.” It was a fearful plea, “Don’t leave me alone Papà.”

Instinctively Tony brought him closer, shushing him gently until Peter was calm again, but even then, the boy’s fingers were still stuck to his shirt.

He rocked Peter back and forth, murmuring tender reassurances even as he analysed the situation. Peter wasn’t going to let him go, that much was clear, and with the boy both tired and upset it was unlikely that he would stop sticking without substantial assurances that Tony wouldn’t leave. So, he either slept here, or he took Peter with him and they both slept in his bed.

He carded one hand through Peter’s curls before gently encouraging Peter’s face out from where the boy had tucked it against his chest.

“There you are,” he murmured as tired brown eyes met his, “Would you like to sleep in my bed tonight buddy?”

“With you?” The question was slurred and sleepy.

“I’ll be there kiddo, you can even use me as your pillow, how about that?”

Peter nodded before promptly burrowing back into Tony’s chest. He didn’t stop the smile that spread across his face as he stood, adjusting Peter so he was easier to carry before walking the few meters to his own room.

He grabbed his pyjamas before sitting down on the mattress, “Can you let me go so I can change buddy?” He asked softly, “I’ll only be a minute and then you can hold on as tightly as you like.”

A whine slipped out from between the boy’s teeth but reluctantly Peter peeled his fingers off his shirt, and Tony changed quickly, but even then, by the time he emerged from the bathroom, he could see the glimmer of tears in Peter’s eyes. He slipped into bed and within a heartbeat a small body was curled against him, fingers clutching on desperately.

Tony pressed a kiss to Peter’s forehead, smiling slightly as the gesture caused the boy to nuzzle closer. However, his son was still awake, and trembling slightly, and that would not do.

Tenderly Tony rubbed his hand in smooth circles over the boy’s small back and he felt Peter slowly relax beneath his touch. In no more than a few minutes his son’s breathing had evened out, the last bit of tension leaving his body as he fell into slumber.

With Peter asleep, the residual tension drained from his own muscles, and he firmly pulled his mind away from the memories of Titan that were lurking, ready to pounce. He could feel Peter’s pulse thrumming beneath his fingers, and feel his warm weight against his chest. He was safe, he was alive and not dust.

“Nightmare?” The almost silent question startled him and he looked up to meet Pepper’s tired gaze.

“Titan. Everyone dusted apart from him. Sorry for waking you.” He confirmed in a whisper that was barely a breath, and even in the dim light he could see the sympathy in her expression.

“Don’t worry about it - that sounds horrid. Not unexpected though.” She murmured back, combing her fingers gently through Peter’s chestnut curls.

He nodded in acknowledgement, careful not to disturb Peter with the motion.

“How are you holding up?” Came the next careful murmur.

It was easier to be honest in the darkness, “I’m holding him – it makes it easier.”

A slender hand came to rest on his shoulder and squeezed once. He managed to smile at her, in a silent thank you, and her own lips curled upwards in reply.

“Sleep well honey.” The whisper drifted over from her side of the bed, and with his son tucked against his chest, and his fiancé within arm’s reach he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sleepy fluff and more groundwork being laid for future plot. The next chapter will be quite plot heavy so I thought it would be nice to give you all some fluffy angst before we have a few different POVs in the coming chapters - and to have a look at some of the scars Peter is carrying from his memories now they have settled.
> 
> Don't worry the confrontation with Stane is coming though it is still a few chapters away at least - and I'm glad you all like the ruthless side Tony has. Incidentally - my legal knowledge is poor (particularly with regards to the American legal system) but I was surprised to discover that the lawyers in the US are able to reject a set number of jurors in any trial without having to give a reason. It was also interesting to look into the laws surrounding the death penalty - the reason it could be applied to this case is that Stane has supplied weaponry to a group at war with the US (treason charge - which carries the death penalty), and attempted murder via collaborating with the terrorist organisation (though as it wasn't sucessful this only carries an imprisonment penalty if this was the only crime).
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed it, and another thank you for all the comments, kudos, bookmarks etc


	16. Chapter 15

“Miss Potts, there’s an Agent Coulson at reception from the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. He’s requesting a meeting at your earliest convenience.”

Pepper resisted the urge to sigh. Her day had started off so well.

She had woken up to find Tony and Peter sleeping peacefully in a multi-limbed cuddle pile, and then managed to extract herself without waking either of them from a lie-in that was – for Tony at least – long overdue. Then when she had arrived at work, she’d been greeted by the confirmation that they had managed to obtain the land for Stark Tower at below budget. Of course something would come along to disrupt such a promising morning.

“Send him up Emily thank you.”

She had an hour before her next scheduled meeting, and from prior experience it was better to deal with Shield quickly. At least Coulson could be relied on to be reasonably competent and polite. It was a pity he had been killed in New York, as he was one of the better agents Shield had. It also helped that he was one of the ones she was fairly certain was not Hydra.

Nevertheless, she would need to tread carefully. Whilst Shield had their uses, currently they were compromised, and whilst many of the agents were good, high skilled and competent individuals, the organisation itself was mired in corruption. She also had to assume that anything she said would be reported back to Fury verbatim, and soon after would be in Hydra’s hands.

Fury also was someone she needed to handle carefully, whilst ostensibly their goals were aligned in that they wanted to defend the Earth against threats such as Thanos, his methods could be _questionable_. She did not like how quickly he reached for unnecessarily manipulative tactics to advance his goals, his treatment of Tony being a classic example.

Still, at least he was honest about it. He was a paranoid, manipulative bastard but he didn’t pretend to be anything else. It made him easier to work with in some respects, at least you expected such tactics from him, and it made him a degree of predictable. He wouldn’t accept things at face value, he would try to make sure he held all the cards, and he would take whatever actions he deemed necessary to accomplish his goals.

That paranoia however would make her job harder.

They couldn’t afford to have Fury sniffing around too deeply until they had more pieces in place and were in a less precarious position. He, and by extension the loyal parts of Shield would be useful allies, but he was an ally they needed to deal with on their terms not his and they could only do that from a position of strength.

Strength that would take six months at the earliest to accumulate, and closer to eighteen months in the more pessimistic estimations.

She straightened, letting a bland professional mask fall over her features. Whilst she had no doubt that Coulson would be able to tell it was a mask, it was the mask he would expect to see in the offices of SI.

“Good morning Agent Coulson,” she greeted him, her manner and bearing firmly fixed in - dealing with irritating board members to whom I cannot show how irritating I find them – mode.

It was a calculated mask of bland pleasantness.

There was nothing offensive about her manner, but it was also a test to see just how much Coulson was noting, and how much he was willing to let her know he had noticed. It was an intricate dance, but one she had been dancing in boardrooms and high-level negotiations for years.

“Good morning Miss Potts, I hope I haven’t inconvenienced you?”

“Oh not at all, the time of your arrival was quite fortuitous, an hour later and I would not have been able to speak to you until Monday morning.”

“Most fortuitous.” He agreed, “I will be brief then as I do not wish to delay you unnecessarily.”

And that was the counter.

Inwardly Pepper smiled, it had been far too long since she had had the opportunity to fence in this way. In the years after the Snap, SI had been one of the few major corporations that had stepped up successfully, and their subsequent dominance had meant that she had rarely had to engage in such verbal spars, not least because by that point, her role as CEO had been very secure.

She had forgotten just how much fun it could be to joust with an opponent, particularly when they were not simply looking down on her for her sex. However, her enjoyment in the wordplay aside, she would still be grateful when he was out of her office.

Their opinions of the other’s relative importance clearly established; she prodded the discussion onwards.

“Why has your agency requested this meeting Agent Coulson?”

He maintained his unflappable demeanour however she saw him acknowledge the implicit challenge.

“We wish to arrange a meeting with Mr Stark to debrief him following his experiences in Afghanistan.”

“Mr Stark has already been debriefed by the CIA and FBI and is contributing to the ongoing investigation. May I enquire as to why a further debriefing is necessary over a week after he returned to American soil?”

That was the second test. How much of Shield’s purpose was he willing to reveal to her in the name of persuading her? How desperate was Shield for this interview? It was also a subtle jab at his organisation’s competency. It had taken them far too long to approach her, though it was possible that Tony had simply been ignoring emails.

“We wished to give Mr Stark time to recover from his injuries following his captivity, as the debrief is not particularly time critical.”

That was a good answer, and one that neatly avoided the trap she had laid. However, despite the fact it avoided her actual question, it did give her another opportunity. She raised a single eyebrow as she responded.

“I see. Mr Stark’s schedule is very busy at the moment, so how long would you estimate the debriefing would take?”

“No more than two hours.”

“I see.” With a few quick flicks of her fingers she pulled up her own calendar and scanned through it, making sure the screen was carefully tilted so it, or any reflections from it, were not visible from the visitors chair. She hadn’t lied - Tony’s schedule _was_ full, just not with the sort of things Shield would expect, and his company one was not remotely representative.

“I will have to consult with Mr Stark, as his schedule is particularly laden in the coming weeks, however it may be possible to arrange a meeting on either the 8th or 10th of June.”

Those dates were either side of the board meeting, therefore Tony could decide whether he wished to involve Shield before or after they had revealed Stane’s crimes to the world.

“Thank you Miss Potts,” Coulson replied courteously, “Either date would be acceptable to us.”

“Do you have contact details we can use to contact you with a confirmation once I have spoken to Mr Stark?” A business card was quickly provided and Pepper slipped it into the relevant folder, before facing Coulson again.

“Is there anything else you need?”

The words and tone made it a clear dismissal and Coulson took them as such, politely declining before they exchanged the obligatory farewells and she called Emily back to escort him out of the building.

Once she was certain that he was completely out of earshot she sighed quietly to herself before pulling up a terminal on her screen and tapping out a quick message for Jarvis. She hadn’t spotted anything that indicated that the agent had bugged her office but it never hurt to be thorough.

It was a useful side effect of Jarvis’ infiltration of SI’s systems. Whilst he didn’t have quite the same capabilities as he did back in the mansion, as the office was lacking the extensive modifications Tony had made back at home, the AI did have access to the full set of cameras and sensors in the building as well as every computer. A security sweep for any unauthorised devices was well within his capabilities.

Thankfully the scan of her office came back clean within a few minutes, and Pepper felt confident she could return to her planning. Coulson’s visit had been mercifully brief, leaving her with roughly half an hour before the next meeting. That left her time to craft the lure for Maya Hansen.

She felt she knew the woman reasonably well after their interactions in the Mandarin debacle, and she genuinely wanted to do good with her formula. It was _unfortunate_ she had ended up as a casualty of Killian’s madness and she would make a valuable asset to the SI team.

It wouldn’t be easy to lure her however. Tony had already rejected her proposal several years ago, and despite that being a valid, and frankly logical strategic decision, the way he had gone about it left much to be desired. Complicating business with sex always left a mess in its wake.

She would have to rely on the fact that she knew Hansen was already having doubts about Killian’s motivations, about some of the discrepancies in the testing regimes. She could present SI as a more ethical and better funded company and hopefully steal her and most of her team out from under Killian’s nose.

It would be a negotiation, and she needed to decide what conditions she was willing to use as an incentive to transfer, beyond the benefit of simply working for SI. That was one thing the company had always got right – they had always had the policies and salaries that ensured their staff were looked after.

Initial email crafted; she turned her attention back to the Tower project. With the land and planning permission secured, she could get the first tranche of surveyors moving in next week. They would simply be focussed on making plans for the demolition and assessing the correct places from foundations once that had been accomplished.

That would take three months at least, which gave her sufficient time to get the plans together for the new Tower. Unfortunately, nothing would be able to speed up the actual build time, which at the absolute fastest was four days per floor. That meant they were highly unlikely to be in the Tower itself for approaching eighteen months.

She frowned to herself at that and made a quick note.

That was a remarkably long time, particularly for Peter. School wasn’t currently an issue, given the fact they were only a few weeks from the end of the school year. Combining the situation with May and Ben and Peter’s age, it had been easy enough to withdraw him for the remainder of the year, however that would be something they would need to deal with before September. Not that there was an obvious solution given Peter’s memories and knowledge.

They would also have to consider their proximity to May and Ben, and of course Peter’s friends, although what those relationships would look like now was an interesting question. It would be something to discuss with Tony, whether Malibu was the correct option, and if not, what were the most sensible alternatives.

However, that would have to wait.

A quick glance at the clock revealed she had five minutes remaining before her next meeting, and she needed to both gather her notes and head down to the conference room. This matter, along with over a hundred others would simply have to wait their turn on her priority list.

* * *

May idly flicked through the channels on the TV in front of her, finally deciding on a simple nature documentary as the best distraction. Images of wolf cubs prowled across the screen and she tried very hard to let it distract her, and not to think about just how much all this cost.

They weren’t paying for their treatment. That was something Tony Stark and his lawyers had made very clear to her. Everything she and Ben needed medically would be paid for no questions asked. She was both worried and grateful at the same time.

Grateful because their insurance would never have paid for the quality of the care they were receiving, she had a private room and she knew that she had the best specialists working on her case. They’d been discussing the coming months with her this morning, and there had been nothing about the cost of the different services or what insurance would be willing to pay, it had simply been choosing the absolute best facility to meet her needs.

And she _was_ grateful. Incredibly grateful.

Not having to worry about the cost was a weight of her shoulders, and it was reassuring to know that she and Ben had the best chances of recovery possible. But at the same time the more cynical part of her couldn’t help but look for the strings.

He’d said it wasn’t conditional, said the money had already been transferred, that it was going towards their treatment and that wouldn’t change but she couldn’t help but wonder. Was it some sort of bribe, or something to put them in his debt so they didn’t contest anything with regards to Peter? She’d only spoken to the man briefly after all, and the picture the papers painted of him wasn’t kind.

A playboy, alcoholic, gambler and weapons dealer. A genius certainly, even his staunchest critics didn’t argue against that, but beyond that one whose reckless, racy and destructive lifestyle was regularly plastered across the tabloids.

Certainly not someone who you would naturally associate with fatherhood. Frankly not someone you would wish to expose a young child to.

And Peter was so very young.

She couldn’t understand why the state had granted someone with such a public history of reckless behaviour the custody of a child. True, Stark _was_ Peter’s biological father, and that counted for a lot, but from everything she’d seen over the years he wasn’t a fit parent.

Though she was willing to concede she might be biased. She’d seen his mistakes spelt out in the papers, but how much of that was sensationalised she didn’t know, but this concerned Peter, and she couldn’t take risks with his safety.

Not that there was much she could do when she couldn’t leave the bed.

Stark hadn’t been what she’d expected though, she could admit that. She hadn’t been expecting to see him in the video call with Peter, expecting him to have handed her nephew over to a nanny. It had banished her last doubts about Peter’s parentage however – seeing them both next to each other made the resemblance obvious. It had been the eyes that were the most startling however, she hadn’t been prepared to see her nephew’s eyes looking at her from Stark’s face.

That hadn’t been the end of the surprises either.

She certainly hadn’t expected Peter to look so comfortable around him, hadn’t expected the way the boy was curled into the man’s side, or the fact that Stark had an arm wrapped around his shoulders protectively.

Her nephew was a shy boy, and whilst he was beginning to grow out of it, he certainly didn’t warm up to strangers quickly. It had taken Mrs Joyce next door nearly a year before Peter would regularly make eye contact with her and smile. But Peter had been quite happy snuggled on the couch next to Stark, even referring to the man as Dad – and that had shocked her to the core.

She thought she’d managed to keep the surprise of her face however, and Peter had rambled on in the way he did when he got excited, so she doubted he’d noticed. Stark might have done, but she didn’t know the man well enough to tell.

It had been good to see Peter excited though, even if it had been for such a short time. His eyes had lit up and it eased something in her to see that, despite what had happened, he could still be happy and enthusiastic.

It hadn’t lasted though, and the way Peter had all but shut down no more than a few minutes later had her instincts screaming. Something was wrong, she didn’t know what had triggered it but she remembered that blankness from those first awful months after Mary and Richard’s death.

During those days any mention of his parents, or any reminder of their loss had sent Peter into an awful silence, twitchy, fidgeting and refusing to speak until the dam broke and he started sobbing. It hadn’t taken long for them to have the full list of triggers memorised and slowly the attacks had petered out until they could bring up his parents without Peter going silent and then breaking down.

There hadn’t been any obvious triggers yesterday.

Peter had just _stopped._

She couldn’t explain it and that worried her. If she would have predicted a time for Peter to shut down it would have been when he first saw her, but that part of the conversation had gone about as well as she could have hoped. Peter had been worried yes, and upset but she had expected that and diverted him quickly enough.

So, for him to shut down in the way he had, with no obvious trigger – in fact he’d being talking animatedly only seconds before - was odd.

May had to give Stark credit though. She’d seen him reach out to comfort Peter, and the boy had accepted it instead of shying away. Stark had also taken over the thread of the conversation when Peter couldn’t, and brought it to a quick close shortly afterwards. She hoped he’d comforted Peter then, but she couldn’t be sure.

Stark was a conundrum and she didn’t like that.

The media painted one picture, that was backed up by videos, comments and photographs but that short video chat had shown a much more sympathetic, caring side, one that was at odds with the man that she saw in the media.

Was he putting on an act? Probably not, or if he was, he was maintaining if for longer than a video call given how comfortable Peter seemed, and that was jarring in and of itself. But that still left questions - would he grow bored and then abandon Peter, or was what she’d seen the real Tony Stark?

She didn’t know and that worried her.

Peter had already suffered more than any child had a right to suffer. He’d lost one set of parents, and May would not see Stark break his battered heart. She needed more information, she needed to meet Stark face to face, instead of over a video. She needed to talk to the man individually, and she needed to speak to Peter – to see for herself that Peter was loved and cherished and looked after.

And if Stark wasn’t a fit parent it didn’t matter that he was a billionaire, with the money to pay for the fanciest lawyers, to fight her in every court. It didn’t matter that he had the means to yank the funding on their treatment, to bribe and bully any court in his favour, she would fight. She would fight Stark with everything she had if that meant that Peter grew up in a loving home.

If and _only_ if Stark was a loving, caring parent, would she give this new revelation and relationship her blessing.

Peter deserved nothing less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the next one - I hope you all enjoyed it.
> 
> We have Pepper and May - and May in a particularly protective mood. I hope you all enjoyed Pepper's section and her interactions with Shield who are now beginning to stick their noses into things..... There are also hints of things to come and pieces are starting to move. This chapter also added another weird thing to the list of odd things I've googled for this fic - I now know more than I ever expected to about the construction of skyscrapers.
> 
> Don't worry - we'll see a bit more of Peter next chapter - and I've got some more from Jarvis' perspective coming up too. Thank you for all the comments, kudos, bookmarks etc. I can hardly believe this has got nearly 40,000 views and 2000 kudos - thank you so much, and see you next Saturday.


	17. Chapter 16

“Be good for Pepper buddy,” Tony instructed quietly and Peter nodded from his position against his father’s chest.

He didn’t want the man to go, didn’t want Iron Man to go soaring off into danger without him as back up. Rationally, Peter knew that things would be okay, Iron Man was the _best_ superhero and Mr Stark had been doing this for years. It would take far more than a terrorist group armed with normal weaponry to be a threat to him, but still…

“You’re not allowed to get hurt.” He meant it to come out stern, but even to Peter the words had a distinct tremble to them.

His father clearly heard it too, because a gentle hand tilted his head upwards so he could look the man in the eye, even as his other arm drew Peter closer.

“I’ll be fine kiddo,” he said quietly, but there was a seriousness in his eyes, “This mission will be straightforward and they’ve got nothing that can penetrate my armour. You’ll have fun with Pepper, go to sleep and I’ll be back here by the time you wake up.”

“Really?”

“I’ll wake you up just like I normally do.” His father assured him softly.

But Peter’s doubts weren’t completely assuaged.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” He pressed, wide eyes scanning every inch of Tony’s face for the slightest hint of deception.

“I beat them easily last time, in a suit that had only a hundredth of the capability of this one.” His dad said calmly, “They can’t hurt me Peter.”

Peter looked at him for a long moment before pitching forwards to bury his face back into the man’s chest. “’M still going to worry.” The words were muffled against the fabric

“I know Tesoro.” The murmur was tender, “But try to have fun. I’ll be back before you know it.”

A firm kiss was pressed to his forehead, and the arms around him tightened before he was released and then Tony was straightening up and smiling at Pepper before leaning forward to kiss her as well.

“No Raptors honey,” she said as he pulled back and his father gave her a sloppy salute in response.

“Scouts honour.”

“You’ve never been a scout you reprobate.” The banter was light-hearted but then it morphed into something more serious. “Fly safe Tony.”

“I always do Pepper.” His smile now was softer and there was a solemn light in his eyes. He nodded once at both of them, before leaning down to ruffle Peter’s hair and direct a reassuring smile at him.

“Mark II Jarvis.”

Within seconds the Iron Man suit had encased him and despite the number of times he had seen and stood before the Iron Man suits, Peter felt a wave of awe pass through him. There was something special about standing so close to the Iron Man suit as a civilian, something that was different from the awe that came from having fought alongside him as a superhero.

And it was his _father_ in that suit.

Despite his worry a burst of pure pride flooded through him. His father was Iron Man, and was going to fight the bad guys to make sure that people weren’t hurt. And he was just a man, not enhanced, everything about Iron Man he had built and made himself and it was _brilliant._

He felt so very lucky. This was his _dad_ , this was the person who loved him, and whom he loved back, who was the best superhero Peter could think of. The man who had made mistakes yes, but always tried to fix them and was so very kind and gave so much.

“Love you Papà.” The words burst out of him, and immediately the Iron Man faceplate retracted and Tony was looking down at him, warmth and love brimming in his gaze.

“Love you too Tesoro.” There was something achingly fond written in every line of his face as the man reached out and rested a gauntleted hand lightly on the boy’s shoulder. Peter leant into it, savouring the affection.

All too soon for Peter’s liking however, the moment passed and Tony stepped back, the Iron Man faceplate covering his features once again as he turned and blasted off from the balcony, rapidly moving away from the mansion.

Soon the suit was nothing but a small red figure in the sky, then a black speck and finally, even with Peter’s enhanced eyesight, he vanished from view completely. He swallowed hard, worry rushing back up to the surface now the suit was out of sight.

“Chinese or pizza?”

Peter started, turning to face Miss Potts who was looking at him with a gentle smile. His confusion must have been evident on his face because she elaborated.

“Which one do you fancy for dinner? I thought we deserved a treat today.” She paused for half a beat before adding, “Though if Tony asks tomorrow, tell him I fed you something healthy and green.” There was a mischievous note in her voice now, “I think dinner tonight should be our secret.”

Peter nodded in agreement, letting the prospect of working with Pepper to play a harmless trick like this on his father distract him. They used to do this sort of thing a lot when Uncle Ben had been alive, gently teasing each other and keeping harmless little secrets. It had all stopped after he died – it was so much harder to do with only two people, and being included in something like it with his dad and his wife – fiancée – girlfriend? – Peter wasn’t sure – filled a void he had forgotten was empty.

He’d had a taste of it with the food fight right after he’d first come to the mansion, but now with Miss Potts joining in, with her _choosing_ to include him when his father wasn’t around it felt different, stronger. She didn’t have to include him after all – she hadn’t signed up for him or claimed him as family. He was just Mr Stark’s son.

“Peter?”

He realised abruptly that he had become lost in his thoughts and he looked up at the woman sheepishly.

“Could we have pizza please Miss Potts?”

“Of course, I’ve got the menu inside, so come and choose your pizza, I’ll order them and then I thought we’d play a board game whilst we are waiting.” She smiled at him before she continued, “And I know from Tony that this is likely to be a lost cause, but you can call me Pepper, Peter.”

He nodded his head, wanting to be polite but he didn’t think he’d just be able to call her Pepper, even if she _was_ going to marry his father.

That would make her his step-mother.

Pepper Potts was going to be his step-mom.

That thought did not compute. It had been easy to rationalise Mr Stark as being his father, he already thought of the man that way anyway, the only thing it had changed was that he called the man Dad or Papà now. It _had_ silenced the doubts that Mr Stark would get bored of the kid from Queens and abandon him though.

He hadn’t thought through the implications that came with actually being _Tony Stark’s_ son.

It wasn’t just having his father back, having a living breathing parent. It came with a legacy, a company, expectations, with the hounding of the press as soon as they learnt that he existed. It meant that he would never again just be a normal kid from Queens. Or at least as normal as he could be with spidery DNA.

He’d moved back to the couch on autopilot, his mind churning, and he blinked as a paper brochure was placed in his hands.

Pizza. He had to choose his supper, Miss Potts was waiting for him to make that choice and he didn’t want to annoy her or make her cross. He shoved his current line of thought to the side, he could worry about it later.

“Have you chosen Pete?” She asked quietly, and he nodded, pointing at the pepperoni pizza and the woman smiled. “Jarvis could you place the order please – and add a pint of Ben and Jerry’s as well – is Cookie Dough alright for you Peter?”

“Certainly Miss Potts,” echoed out from the speakers even as Peter nodded again in reply.

“Now which board game do you fancy – I’ve got Catan, Ticket to Ride, Carcassonne, as well as Chess or Risk, if you fancy something more traditional?”

“Not Monopoly?”

She laughed at that, “With SI I don’t need a pretend monopoly, and besides, I know better than to play a game with such easily exploitable mathematical probabilities with a genius.”

At that comment Peter blushed, looking down at his shoes. He’d worked out the probabilities behind monopoly when he was five and after he’d cleaned out May and Ben twice in a row, they’d worked out what was going on, and monopoly had quickly dropped off the family game list.

Pepper chuckled again, the sound warm and friendly, and he peeked up to look at her, only to see her eyes dancing down at him as she gestured at the boxes in front of her, in a simple motion that meant pick one.

After a few moments of deliberation Peter leant forward and tapped the Ticket to Ride box. It wasn’t the same map he and Ned had played but he knew the general rules and knew there was enough chance and strategy in it to keep his mind occupied.

He was rewarded with another smile as Pepper leant over to put the other boxes away as he started to unpack the pieces, quickly setting out the board, cards and individual train pieces.

The game passed quickly, the advantage swinging between them. Miss Potts played competitively, and there was just the right amount of strategy to keep his mind focussed but at the same time enough chance that he ended up groaning when the cards weren’t right. Before he knew it, they were down to the final moves, and as they were adding up the scores Jarvis announced that their pizza had arrived.

It wasn’t until they had finished their ice cream and Miss Potts mentioned that it was time for him to go to bed that Peter suddenly realised it had been nearly two hours since Mr Stark had left and he had been so absorbed in what he was doing that he had forgotten to be worried.

Miss Potts was _sneaky._

But now he had been reminded of his father’s absence all of his worries came rushing back. Intellectually he knew that Mr Stark would be fine, logically the terrorists weren’t a threat to the experienced Avenger and Peter had seen the specs for the Iron Man suit. He _knew_ that their weapons shouldn’t be dangerous, but it was his father out there.

Going to bed only made it worse.

Every day since he’d come to the mansion it had been Mr Stark who had sent him to bed. He missed it, missed the way his father would press a goodnight kiss to his forehead, the way he would tuck him in, the sensation of calloused fingers carding gently through his hair. He missed the warm quiet and the undeniable sensation of being so very loved.

It wasn’t the same with Miss Potts.

She accompanied him up to his room, waiting just outside the threshold to check that he had changed into his pyjamas and clambered under the covers. She didn’t attempt to tuck him in and that was good, because Peter wouldn’t have let her.

Miss Potts was nice, Miss Potts was safe, but she wasn’t someone he would let that close yet. She was a bit like Mrs Leeds he decided. Someone he knew was safe and trustworthy, who was loved by someone he loved and respected, but not someone he knew that well yet.

She _could_ and _would_ be family eventually, but she wasn’t family now. But it seemed that she knew that, not attempting to push Peter out of his comfort zone. Or maybe she had realised that he had been uncomfortable at the thought of anyone trying to fill his father’s place in their bedtime routine so hadn’t tried.

“Goodnight Peter.” She said quietly from the doorway once he was safely in bed, and he managed to muster up a smile as he replied.

“Goodnight Miss Potts.”

The light went out and the door closed with a soft click, and then he was staring up at the glow in the dark stars that adorned his ceiling, alone in his big, dark room. He closed his eyes, trying to sleep. The sooner he slept the sooner it would be morning and the sooner his father would be home and he could tackle him in a hug.

His room was too big. Too dark and he couldn’t hear his dad’s heartbeat.

The heartbeat that was the lullaby he’d fallen asleep to every night for nearly a week. Without it the room felt empty.

“Mr Jarvis?”

“Yes Master Peter?” The response was nearly instantaneous, and it helped to fill the emptiness of the room.

“Is Dad okay?”

“Sir is currently flying over the Atlantic, and is in no danger.”

A breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding slipped out between his teeth. His father was alive, unhurt and fine. That was good, really good but it still didn’t fill the aching emptiness of his bedroom.

Peter bit his lip. He knew what he wanted to ask, he knew what he needed to help him sleep but he didn’t know if he could ask, or if Mr Jarvis would report it to his father or Miss Potts. And he knew it was weird, but he also knew he wasn’t going to fall asleep without it.

“Mr Jarvis,” he asked hesitantly, “Do you have to tell Dad or Miss Potts if I ask you for something?”

“That depends Master Peter,” the AI replied, “If the request indicates you are or may be in danger, I must notify Sir. Beyond that I have discretion about whether I believe Sir needs to know, however I will not lie to Sir if he asks me a direct question.”

Peter thought about that for a minute. His request wasn’t dangerous and he _wanted_ to sleep so he could see his father sooner, but it was still embarrassing and he didn’t want them to know. But in the end his desire for sleep and comfort overrode his embarrassment, nevertheless, his voice was still quiet and he stuttered a bit as he said,

“Could you play a recording of Papà’s heartbeat please Mr Jarvis – and not tell him unless he asks? It’s just that he’s normally here when I go to sleep and it’s too quiet and empty.” He trailed off, feeling the heat in his cheeks but before he could wallow in the sensation Jarvis spoke.

“Of course Master Peter.” The AI’s voice was warm and seconds later the soft thudding of a familiar heartbeat echoed through the room.

The sound chased away the emptiness, and even though it was just a recording it soothed him and Peter found his eyelids getting heavier. With his father’s heartbeat echoing in his ears, he slept.

* * *

The lag between the processors in Mark II and his main servers in the mansion had reached 657 cycles.

Jarvis was used to existing in parallel in many separate locations however this was the first time there had been such a substantial lag between instances, and this lag was only 0.4772% of the eventual lag that would be experienced on this flight.

It was also a more unusual instance. The development of Sir’s suit was the first time Jarvis had possessed sensors that interacted so directly with the physical world. He had gained 132,998,741,772,889 data points in the first test flight and had gained another 18.1189 terabytes during the flight to New York to retrieve Master Peter.

The current flight was also proving data rich, providing 27.4401 terabytes since it had started. Whilst many of the data points were not directly useful for anything more than refining his flight calculations and making efficiency improvements, 1.6220% were being fed into his simulations of Sir’s behaviour.

The Iron Man suits were the closest Jarvis had ever come to possessing a physical shell and the data they were feeding into his processors were improving his simulations of what it would be like to possess and operate a physical shell at a rate of 5.3328% per minute.

He was also able to obtain a large amount of data from the way Sir flew the suit. Sir’s movements in the suit had only lost 3.2487% of the fluidity that he moved with in his normal clothing and that discrepancy could easily be accounted for by the extra weight of the suit and mechanical friction within the joints of the armour itself.

Sir was doing the majority of the work keeping the suit airborne, making the sort of unconscious corrections and motions that indicated an experience and familiarity that could only be gained over time. It reduced the processing power Jarvis needed to expend letting him feed the data he gained straight into his own simulations and refine them. He would not be able to fly the suit as gracefully without Sir’s presence yet but observing Sir’s flight was accelerating his progress.

It was also allowing him to further refine his new models of Sir’s behaviour. 43.8812% of the underlying assumptions had remained intact, but the rest had been overwritten following Sir’s disclosure of his time travel. It had improved the rate at which he correctly predicted Sir’s actions from the low of 34.3329% to 62.0015%, however he had not yet achieved the 78.3425% accuracy he had possessed before Sir’s trip to Afghanistan.

The lag reached 1356 cycles by the time Sir was destroying the weapons caches in the desert, which was sufficiently large that only the most processor intensive tasks were being sent back to the processors in the mansion, where the gain in computational speed offset the time lost to transmit the signal. The Jarvis instance in the suit was now acting virtually independent from the Jarvis instance back in the mansion.

They would have to re-integrate the instance once Sir was back in the mansion. Re-integration was something they had not done frequently as Jarvis had never been separated by enough distance that instances would require it. They had done it when they wished to learn by exploring input in isolation before recombining, but they had only done that 71 times.

They shunted that line of enquiry to the side as a disturbance in Master Peter’s room drew their attention. Master Peter had just woken up and was evidently somewhat upset, and Jarvis calculated an 85.4440% probability the child had experienced a nightmare.

Their protocol was to notify Sir when Sir was in the mansion, but notifying Sir when Sir had just finished destroying weapons caches and was still six hours away from the mansion had an adverse outcome in 99.8401% of simulations.

Contacting Miss Potts was possible, however given the observations they had made of Master Peter’s behaviour that evening, that course of action still produced an adverse reaction in 78.3312% cases.

That left Jarvis. If they intervened with certain facts the probability of an adverse reaction dropped to 43.2217%. That was still a high probability, but it was the lowest probability of all courses of action.

“Master Peter.” They modulated their voice so that it had a maximum of 20.0000 decibels in deference to the boy’s enhanced hearing.

“Sir is currently flying home from Afghanistan. His ETA for arrival back at the mansion is 07:03 PST.”

The boy swallowed heavily, clumsily reaching up to wipe away remnants of tears.

“Thank you, Mr Jarvis.” The response was quiet, but it was one of the positive outcomes they had simulated.

“Is there anything I can do for you young Sir?”

The silence lasted for 491520 cycles before Master Peter broke it.

“If something had gone wrong who would have saved him?”

The question hung in the air.

“Your father and I completed all the calculations Master Peter. There was only a 0.03341% chance that something would have gone wrong.”

“That’s not zero.”

Jarvis knew that. The probability Sir would return from Afghanistan had been 0.0702% and yet he had done it. The probability that the changes to Sir’s personality had been caused by time travel had been even smaller.

“It was the smallest we could get it. It is not possible to eliminate all risk Master Peter.”

The boy was becoming more agitated now, hands waving in the air the same way Sir’s did as he talked.

“I _know_ that. But backup would make him safer yes?”

“Having backup would decrease that probability, although the amounts would vary depending on the backup provided.”

“I can’t be the backup.” There was an emotion in the child’s voice that Jarvis couldn’t identify but they agreed with the boy’s assessment. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t _make_ Dad backup. I’ll need your help though. I don’t have everything I’d need to do it myself.”

There was another pause, this time only 127421 cycles long.

“Will you help me Mr Jarvis?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again - first of all thanks you for all the comments and kudos etc, both for those of you who have followed this from the beginning and all the people who've picked this up more recently.
> 
> So the first Iron Man mission - and some Peter-Pepper and Peter-Jarvis bonding. I know some of you have been waiting for that. I had quite a lot of fun writing it - and that complaint about monopoly is an old one with me and my friends - and the reason it got banished from our board games list.
> 
> I hope Jarvis came across well - he's always a fun perspective to play with as he is probably the most alien voice I've written. For those of you who are curious, the lag he mentions is due to the fact that information cannot be transmitted faster than the speed of light, and over the distances required and for a computer who's base unit of time is a thirty thousandth of a second, that becomes noticeable. I hope the switch of pronouns in Jarvis' internal thought processes wasn't too jarring either. And we have Peter and Jarvis plotting!
> 
> See you all next week!


	18. Chapter 17

Peter yawned, scrubbing at his eyes with his hand. The design on his tablet wavered as he blinked and he yawned again.

“Perhaps it is time to finish for the night Master Peter?” Jarvis suggested. “We have been working on this for nearly two hours and according to my research children of your age need 9 to 12 hours of sleep a night. You have only had five hours of sleep currently and I believe you wished to be awake when Sir returns home.”

“But there’s still so much to do,” Peter protested, a hint of a whine in his voice. “And they need to be ready as soon as possible.”

“You have not made any meaningful progress in the last ten minutes,” The AI pointed out reasonably, “And if you continue working now you will make mistakes and this will take longer to finish.”

Peter pouted, narrowing his eyes up at the ceiling. “You’re making sense Mr Jarvis. It’s not fair. You’re not supposed to make sense.”

“I apologise young Sir.” There was a warmth in Jarvis’s tone now, that Peter, even as sleepy as he was could hear. “However, if you do not put your work away and try to sleep, I will have to notify Sir, under the ‘Night Light’ Protocol.”

Peter’s pout became more pronounced, although it wasn’t the most embarrassing name his father could have chosen. Whilst he had experience working with and around his father’s AIs – the fact he’d managed to get Jarvis to agree to this project in the first place was proof enough – he also knew it was futile trying to override a protocol his father had put in place deliberately. Well, without direct access to the AI’s code at least, and he certainly didn’t have any way of getting at Jarvis’ code.

Reluctantly he put the tablet down, making sure to save all the work and hide it in an innocuous file his dad wouldn’t think to open, then he padded back to bed, making sure to look very deliberately into the camera as he did so.

“See, I’m in bed.”

Despite his words, Peter’s mind was still sluggishly turning over ideas. There were all sorts of back-up suits and drones that would help keep his father safe. He was working on Droney first, who would be able to survey battlefields and get into tight spaces if his dad was ever trapped and call for help from Mr Rhodey or Mr Jarvis, but there were so many other things he could do.

“That you are Master Peter.” There was amusement in Jarvis’ voice, “However, you are not yet trying to sleep.”

As soon as the AI had finished speaking, a familiar heartbeat started playing softly over the speakers and Peter felt his eyelids become heavier as another yawn escaped. The gentle sound was already calming his thoughts, but he was still able to muster up irritation at sneaky AIs.

“That’s cheating,” he slurred out.

“My protocols dictate that I am to keep you safe Master Peter. That includes using the means at my disposal to ensure you get sufficient rest.” Jarvis’ voice was scarcely above a whisper, despite the slightly chastising tone to it.

“I’s still cheatin’.” It was a sleepy grumble and the AI started to respond, but Peter didn’t hear it, as the lateness of the hour, the comfort of his bed and the sound of his father’s heartbeat pushed him into slumber.

* * *

The mission had been a complete success, and much to Tony’s surprise nothing had gone wrong. All the weapons caches had been exactly where he had expected them to be and easy to destroy, he’d freed the villagers without the loss of a single innocent life and the terrorists in that area were either dead or in the hands of the relevant authorities. He was even injury free.

There was the expected damage to his armour of course. Small scrapes, no more than micrometres deep where bullets had impacted and ricocheted off, a slight imbalance between the thrusters as the inner circuitry protested at the prolonged period of usage. It was all routine damage that would be easy to fix before the next mission.

But still – this was the most successful mission he’d been on in years – since he’d joined the Avengers Initiative in fact. He supposed that made sense – a terrorist group equipped with nothing more than human weaponry despite its high quality, was a far lesser threat than the alien invasions and weaponry this suit had been designed to combat.

It made a nice change nevertheless. To come back from a mission not bruised and bleeding? He knew far better than to get used to it, but he’d take it. A mission without innocent casualties and without injury was a thing to be thankful for and savour. They were far too rare.

“Sir, Colonel Rhodes is calling.” Jarvis’ voice broke him out of his musings.

“Patch him through J.”

“I don’t know whether to thank you or shoot you right now.” On cue, his friend’s exasperated voice echoed through the suit’s speakers.

“Well hello to you too honeybear,” he responded glibly, “If you hold off on shooting me, I’d appreciate it – see I told Pepper I wasn’t going to get into a dogfight with your Raptors.”

A sigh echoed through the comms, and Tony couldn’t help but grin, post battle adrenalin still flooding through his veins and making him flippant.

“You’re too far out anyway.” Rhodey admitted, “But do you know how much paperwork has landed on my desk in the past half hour?”

There was a short pause, but just as Tony drew breath to speak the Colonel continued, “Far too _fucking_ much!”

Tony couldn’t help the snort that escaped him as his friend continued, “’Don’t worry about it Rhodey’, you said, ‘It’s just a short mission to get rid of some illegal weaponry’ and ‘I’ll only be in the country for an hour, you’ll hardly notice me.’ And what actually happened?”

He didn’t bother to try and smother his chuckles at Rhodey’s poor imitation of his voice, interjecting when the man paused for breath.

“To be fair platypus I was only in Afghani airspace for an hour.”

Rhodey continued as if he hadn’t said anything.

“Two terrorist bases completely obliterated, three men on the FBI most wanted list left gift wrapped in front of Bagram Airbase, at least a dozen major explosions reported in the mountains and desert and more reports are still arriving on my desk. That is _not_ a simple short mission Tones.”

“You’re welcome Rhodey.” He was sure his friend could hear his smirk despite the thousands of miles separating them.

A groan was his only answer.

“For the love of God Tones, if you are going to show up the entirety of the US military in an hour please give me more warning than a ten-minute phone call the day before.”

“I want to run another mission next Tuesday. That’s three day’s warning.”

“Three days…” Tony could hear Rhodey’s aggravation down the line, and could just as clearly hear the moment when his friend decided he’d had enough of trying to understand the Tony-related insanity and was just going to roll with it.

“Okay Tones. I can deal with three days warning. You’re going to have the Senate breathing down your neck though and I can’t and won’t protect you from that.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to Rhodey,” he replied, “That’s for me to deal with, and I’m more than a match for a bunch of stuck-up senators.”

A thought occurred to him, “Would my hit list from today help with the paperwork honeybear?”

“That would be a godsend Tony.” The reply came immediately, “Otherwise I’ll be here for hours working out what was you, and what was insurgents and civilians taking advantage of your chaos.”

“Jarvis will send it over – and the list of everything I think I destroyed, just in case something escaped the net. I don’t want a single Stark weapon left in their hands. It’s for your eyes only though – I’m still cleaning house.”

There were a few moments of silence on the other end before Rhodey spoke again.

“I’ll keep it safe- and Tones - don't kill yourself.” There was a serious edge to his friend’s voice that Tony had rarely heard before, “I know you want every weapon out of their hands, but you’ve got too much to live for to go and get yourself blown up.”

“I know Rhodey,” he replied quietly. He did know – more than his friend could ever realise. This was his second chance, with his family here, and alive, and he had no intention of wasting it. He had made the sacrifice play, not once but twice and whilst he would gladly give his life again if it would mean his children lived, he wanted this second chance desperately. He had no intention of taking any unnecessary risks.

They finished the call no more than a minute or so later, and Tony switched his attention back to the flight, smothering a yawn as he did so. The adrenalin rush was wearing off, leaving battle-fatigue in its wake.

“How far to Malibu J?”

“If current conditions are maintained, the flight will take another 2 hours and 43 minutes Sir.”

He mulled that over for a few seconds. He was fairly tired; he’d expended a lot of energy fighting and he hadn’t pulled an all-nighter for a while and his body had evidently become used to getting that sleep. He was also fairly certain he’d have a worried and overwrought son to comfort as soon as he got home, and past experience had taught him that it was always preferable to deal with an upset child on as much sleep as possible.

Napping in the Iron Man suit was not ideal, but he’d done it multiple times in the past, particularly coming back from long missions, or at times when he’d been injured. However Jarvis had far less experience flying the suit, and as much as he wanted a nap, he wouldn’t do it if the AI wasn’t ready to take control of the suit.

“How’d you feel about piloting the suit yourself Jarvis?”

“There are still terabytes of calculations I would need to complete in order to fly the suit the way you do Sir, however I can safely fly it back to Malibu provided no evasive manoeuvring is needed.”

“Good enough Jarvis. Might as well let you get in some practice when I’m not being shot at.”

“Of course Sir.”

Tony could feel the shift as his AI took over, the new stiffness in the suit, the way it went from flexing around his body to a much more rigid structure. Letting out a deep breath he let his mind wander, dropping out of the focussed state he’d been in for the last several hours.

The rest of the journey back to Malibu passed in a blur. He didn’t sleep, not truly, the Iron Man suit too rigid to really be comfortable, but as he rode out the adrenaline crash, he drifted in and out of slumber. It wasn’t anywhere as good as a real sleep, but it would give him enough energy to get him through the day.

Gently he landed the suit on the balcony, stretching out tired and stiff muscles as the suit vanished back into the workshop. A quick glance at his watch put his priorities in order – a shower, Pepper, coffee, wake up Peter, breakfast.

Fifteen minutes later and he was feeling decidedly more human as he made his way down to the kitchen, just in time to catch Pepper before she headed in to the office. That was the disadvantage of giving her SI – it meant she often had to work for at least part of the weekend.

“I put the coffee on,” She said as he entered, inclining her head in the direction of the machine.

“You are a lifesaver.” He proclaimed, making a beeline for the cup that was already waiting on the side.

Well attuned to his moods after the years they had spent together Pepper waited until he’d taken his first few gulps of caffeine before she spoke again.

“You’ve made the morning news.”

He glanced up at that – he had never expected his actions to stay quiet, there were far too many active reporters in the country and he hadn’t exactly been being subtle, but it was always useful to know what the media were spinning. It helped him to know when he had to dodge.

“Anything interesting?” He kept his tone bland, though he knew Pepper could hear the tint of real curiosity below it.

“It’s mainly positive – they’re raving about the capture of the three senior figures from Ten Rings, and they’ve got a couple of soundbites from the places you saved. You should listen to those.”

He tilted his head at that, “Oh?” he said softly.

Pepper met his gaze squarely, something sad and knowing in her gaze.

“You should listen to them,” she repeated quietly, “And keep them for when it’s hard to remember.”

Tony closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a long slow breath. He knew exactly what Pepper was alluding to. It was easy, far too easy to see all the hurt he’d caused, all the pain he’d inflicted, and he knew he deserved that guilt. But that would destroy him, that _had_ destroyed him.

He needed the reminders sometimes, needed the reminder that Tony Stark could do more than break and destroy. Pepper tried, and sometimes she succeeded, but not always. He’d had a lifetime of practice at pushing people away and all too often he’d been able to wall her out, to accept the disappointment and pain on her face as his due, and hurt them both.

It would be easier this time around, it had _been_ easier when he’d had Peter first, and then Morgan. They both looked up at him with such faith, and trust. When they looked at him they didn’t see all of his long list of faults and fuck-ups, they saw their father, a man, flawed yes, but who loved them, who could solve all their problems by being himself. And they believed that still, and in Peter’s case believed it despite having crumbled to dust in his arms whilst Tony was helpless to prevent it.

He wanted to be the man he saw reflected back in his children’s eyes. To be worthy of their love and respect. In his life of mistakes and faults, he had to have done something right if his children could still look at him like he hung the moon, still have faith that he would save them always.

“Anything else?” He asked, forcing his voice to lighten, to dispel the heaviness that was now blanketing the kitchen, and with one searching look Pepper went along with it.

“They’re debating what to call you – they don’t have any good footage, so the names are getting a little outlandish.”

“If Iron Man isn’t suggested I’ll have to start that off myself – as inaccurate as it is, I’ve grown fond of it.”

Pepper laughed, “It’s the most popular suggestion so I think you’re safe honey.”

The sigh of relief he let out then was deliberately over dramatic but there was a hint of real relief lurking below it. He may not have picked the name originally, but it had become part of his identity and it would have been incredibly jarring if the media had picked something else.

Her mirth faded as she continued, “However I had best head to SI and you’ve got a son to wake.”

“How was he?”

She sighed, “I was able to distract him, but it’ll take time before he’s fully comfortable around me, and he was definitely worrying. He _was_ asleep when I checked in on him around 11 though.”

Tony nodded as he listened, that was better than he had expected. At least Peter had slept and had apparently managed to have some fun, that was good. However, as much as he would like to spend the morning with his whole family, Pepper was right, she did have to go to work.

Stepping forward, he embraced Pepper, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. Another portion of the residual tension he’d been carrying since the end of the mission sloughed away at the feel of her in his arms, but far too swiftly duty reasserted itself and he stepped back. No more than a few minutes later she was gone.

Quickly Tony downed the rest of his coffee, before heading up to Peter’s room. His lips twitched as he took in the sight that greeted him. Peter was not a calm sleeper, even when he didn’t have nightmares the covers somehow ended up in the most peculiar configurations, and over the course of the previous night Peter had somehow managed to rotate his covers over ninety degrees and then twisted them around himself into a weird cocoon.

Still smiling, Tony sat down on the edge of the bed and started carding his hand through his son’s curls. Peter shifted slightly, a mewl escaping from between his lips.

“That’s it, good morning buddy, time to get up,” Tony coaxed gently, not pausing in his ministrations.

Brown eyes blinked open, even as Peter nuzzled closer to the hand that was stroking through his hair. Tony could see the precise moment that the boy remembered the events of the night before, recognition and joy lighting up in brown irises.

The covers landed on the floor with a soft thud as forty pounds of suddenly awake child flung themselves at Tony. He let out a quiet grunt as Peter slammed into him, small arms wrapping around him and clinging on. Instinctively Tony’s arms came up to cradle his son, holding Peter securely against his chest.

“Good morning Tesoro,” he murmured, resting his cheek against soft curls.

“You’re back,” his son happily proclaimed, taking the opportunity to curl even closer.

“I promised, didn’t I?” He replied quietly, “No matter what, I will always fight my hardest to come home to you, and Pep and Morgan.”

At those words Peter looked up, too solemn eyes searching his face. Tony kept his expression open; he didn’t know exactly what Peter was looking for, but he could guess and he let the sincerity of that promise shine through. It was true he would die for his family, but he would far prefer to live for them.

Evidently Peter found what he was looking for because a few moments later he nodded before burrowing back into Tony’s chest and snuggling close.

“I get why you and May didn’t like it when I went on patrols now.” The statement was quiet, and Peter kept his gaze fixed downward, small fingers tracing the shape of the arc reactor in the air above it.

“I know why you’ve got to go but it doesn’t make waiting easier.”

Tony closed his eyes for half a second before leaning down and pressing a light kiss to his child’s forehead. He knew precisely what Peter was going through, understood exactly what he meant. It never got easier loving a hero, waiting and worrying for the next mission, the next injury but at the same time knowing that they couldn’t, wouldn’t stop.

He hadn’t understood that before he’d met a reckless, genius superpowered teen with a heart of gold, but he knew now. He had also learnt that when you loved a hero you had to live in the moment, taking the good times when they came because there was no guarantee of tomorrow. You could fight for tomorrow, do everything possible to ensure there would be a tomorrow, but it wasn’t guaranteed, and if you hadn’t taken those opportunities you would regret it. Thanos had taught that lesson all too well.

“I know buddy,” the words were barely a breath, but he knew Peter had heard them. He slipped a gentle hand underneath Peter’s chin, tenderly encouraging the boy to look up and meet his gaze.

“Of course you worry Peter, you know what it’s like out there, and it’s completely natural to be scared. But today will be a _good_ day. We’ve got pancakes for breakfast, and then we’ll spend some time in the lab, and perhaps we’ll watch a movie after lunch. It’s a Saturday, so Pep will be home early so she’ll probably join us and she makes an excellent hot chocolate.”

He took a deep breath before continuing. He didn’t need to tell Peter about the importance of making the most of the good times when they came, his son had been taught that lesson again and again in the cruellest manner the world could.

“I’m here now, and I won’t be going out on another mission until Tuesday. Even then, I’m not taking risks, after all I’ve got a kid at home, haven’t I?”

Peter nodded against his chest, “That means you’ve got to try to come home.”

Tony pressed another kiss to his son’s temple.

“Exactly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello - and here's the update - I hope you all enjoyed it - and thanks for the comments, kudos, subscriptions, bookmarks etc.
> 
> So a lot from Tony's POV today - complete with an utterly exasperated Rhodey who doesn't quite know what to make of all this craziness but has learnt to roll with the punches. I hope you enjoyed this look into the first Iron Man mission, several months ahead of schedule and the hints for all the possible reprecussions of this.
> 
> Also a bit more time with Peter and Jarvis and their conspiracy - as you can see Peter has plans, although he's starting simply (and with slightly trauma led priorities - Tony won't get buried under rubble if Peter has anything to do with it...), and we will see more of those later.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this - it was a bit more plot heavy - we'll see a bit more character and fluff next chapter - and don't worry - pieces are moving for the major changes to start becoming apparent. *Grins* - see you all next week!


	19. Chapter 18

Peter glared at the hologram in front of him. He knew exactly what he wanted it to do, and he knew that he knew how to do it but it wasn’t working and he couldn’t work out why.

It had been working fine this morning, and he’d made a lot of progress with Droney (he was not going to admit it to Mr Jarvis but it _was_ a lot easier to work on it when it wasn’t the early hours of the morning). They’d had an early lunch and then Peter had begged to come back down to the lab, at which point his father had smiled, ruffled his hair and acquiesced.

It was _supposed_ to be simple. He just needed a mechanism that would let Droney switch from his flying mode to his caving mode but the panels just weren’t working. No matter what he tried he couldn’t get the feet to deploy and the rotors to tuck away without something going wrong.

It just wasn’t _working_!

He should have been able to finish it but nothing was working right and it was all wrong and it wasn’t fair. And he wanted to it work and he needed it to work but the stupid rotors weren’t folding properly but there was nothing wrong and why wouldn’t it just work!

“Easy there buddy.”

Peter startled, one hand automatically sweeping the hologram into the save folder as he spun around to see his father approaching, concern written on his face. Peter shuffled in place, suddenly self-conscious as he realised he’d stamped his foot in frustration and that he’d snapped the pencil he was using in two.

He felt heat pool in his cheeks as sharp brown eyes surveyed his work area, taking the situation in with a glance. He wasn’t supposed to do this. He wasn’t supposed to break things just because he was frustrated, only _little_ kids had tantrums, and he wasn’t a little kid.

“I’m sorry Papà,” he said quietly, eyes firmly fixed on the floor, “I didn’t mean to break it.”

Mr Stark crouched down in from of him, “Look at me please kiddo,” he said softly.

Peter slowly raised his eyes, preparing himself to see anger or worse disappointment, but there was nothing but concern looking back at him.

“It was an accident Pete, I’m not cross with you. Now are you hurt anywhere?”

As Mr Stark had been talking Peter had become aware of a sharp stinging in the palm of the hand holding the remnants of the pencil. Carefully he uncurled his fist, hissing as jagged pieces of wood clattered to the floor, leaving behind a pair of nasty bloody scratches.

Calloused fingers reached out and gently took hold of his wrist as his father examined the cuts. They were shallow but with ragged edges. Peter’s healing would deal with them in a few short hours but in the meantime they hurt.

“Let’s get those cleaned up hmm, I bet they hurt.” Peter just nodded, tears pricking at the edge of his eyes as he let his father manoeuvre him over to the sink. The boy flinched when the cold water hit the cuts but he didn’t say anything as the man cleaned the scratches, keeping up a soothing murmur of chatter as he did so. No more than a few minutes later the cuts were cleaned and a band-aid had been smoothed over the worst of the damage.

“There we go buddy,” Mr Stark murmured, “All better now.”

In a single fluid movement the man shifted and Peter didn’t have any time to react before he was scooped up and settled on Mr Stark’s hip. Instinctively he wound his legs around his father’s waist and wrapped his arms around the man’s neck, clinging on.

“It’s alright bug, I’ve got you.”

Trusting his father, Peter relaxed his grip, although he didn’t let go, letting the strong arm around his back take his weight and relaxing into the hold.

“There we go,” The words were barely a whisper, only audible because of Peter’s enhanced hearing and he felt himself beginning to relax, some of the frustrations of the past hour melting away. “Now what’s got you so worked up tesoro?”

Biting his lip Peter turned his face into his father’s neck. It was silly, he wasn’t a little kid, he shouldn’t get so worked up by something not working, no invention worked perfectly the first time around and he knew that.

But he was frustrated and cross and tired and it didn’t matter that he shouldn’t be upset because he _was._

Mr Stark was still carrying him, rocking him slightly as he walked around the lab, one arm holding him in place, the other hand rubbing tender circles on his back, the man’s cheek resting gently on his head. Peter was utterly safe here, nothing could touch him, nothing could hurt him.

“It wasn’t working,” he finally admitted in a small voice, “And I can’t work out why, it should work but it doesn’t and I don’t know why and I kept trying but nothing worked and…” The words started coming faster, tumbling over themselves as his frustration started to mount once again.

Peter’s rant was interrupted as Tony started to hush him, picking up his pace slightly so the rocking motion was more pronounced. Dimly Peter was aware that he should be embarrassed, he was nearly eight, with nine more years of memories and he was being comforted like a fussy three-year-old but it was working.

Tension was draining out of him, the irritation soothed away by the safety and love he found in his father’s arms. Mr Stark was still murmuring softly to him, the words a susurration in his ears, and Peter yawned, the tiredness from the night before beginning to replace the frustration.

Blinking slowly the boy suddenly realised that whilst he’d been distracted they’d left the lab and were moving towards the lounge. The surprise must have caused him to shift or stiffen because his father’s murmurs cut off, as he answered the implicit question.

“We’re done with the workshop today buddy. It’s not good to try and design things if you’re worked up.”

“But I’m not finished yet.” It was perilously close to whine.

“Your project will still be there tomorrow,” Mr Stark’s voice was firm, “You are far too tired to work safely now.”

Peter knew far better than to disobey that tone of voice, so he settled for simply pouting and hiding his face in his father’s neck. It wasn’t as if his father was wrong either, if Peter was being honest with himself he knew that he wouldn’t be as upset if he wasn’t tired. He _had_ been up in the middle of the night and then got stuck because he was tired and then he had been able to fix it this morning, but that didn’t stop it from being irritating.

Shortly afterwards they reached the lounge and Mr Stark headed straight for the armchair, not relinquishing his grip on Peter even as he sat down, simply shifting the boy until he was in a more comfortable position.

Peter wriggled a bit, shifting until he was snuggled up against a firm chest, tucked in against his father’s side. Strong arms held him in place, fingers carding through his curls. He could have broken out of the hold, despite being only seven he was still a lot stronger than Mr Stark, but he didn’t want to. He was comfy here, warm and safe and loved, and he was rapidly becoming sleepy.

“Jarvis – stick on a movie would you?”

“Certainly Sir.”

The opening strains of Disney’s Robin Hood echoed out from the speakers and Peter focussed his attention on the screen. However, soon the images began to blur and by the time Prince John had arrived in Nottingham he was fast asleep.

Consciousness returned slowly.

Peter was first aware of the rhythmic pulsing in his ears, a regular, familiar beat that spoke of safety. It was accompanied by a quiet whistle, rising and falling in another cyclic pattern, though slower than the first sound. For several long moments Peter let himself just exist, suspended in the serenity and warm comfort of teetering on the threshold of barely awake.

Voices filtered in next. These too were safe, warm, familiar voices. He could not tell how long he drifted in that moment but imperceivably slowly the voices changed from simply being a gentle background hum to recognisable words.

“…can’t avoid the Gala altogether Tony,”

“I know. Given everything that’s happened we can’t afford the negative press we’d get if I didn’t turn up at my own birthday fundraiser. Doesn’t mean I have to like it though.”

“I’ve managed to keep the guest list short – and the worst of the trophy seekers out.”

“Thank you. Modelling it off some of the old Maria Stark Foundation fundraisers then?” There was a short pause then, “Good – it’s going to be bad enough having to deal with everyone who expects playboy Tony Stark without it looking like my thirtieth.”

There was a light chuckle and Peter shifted, the noise having pulled him further out of slumber. The conversation above his head abruptly cut off and then a warm hand was resting on his head and a gentle thumb stroking across his cheekbone.

“You with us buddy?” His father asked softly and Peter let out a high-pitched whine in response.

The chest he was lying on vibrated with a deep chuckle at that, “Not quite yet then.” The hand on his head started to move, tender fingers coaxing him out of sleep, “You’ve had a long nap kiddo, the movie’s finished.”

Slowly he blinked awake, squinting slightly as the world came into focus above him. His father’s face was the first thing he saw, smiling fondly down at him.

“Good afternoon kiddo, sleep well?”

Peter yawned as he nodded. He felt much better than he had done earlier in the afternoon, but internally he made a promise that he wasn’t going to work in the middle of the night again. As nice as his nap had been, he was seven – nearly eight - and that was far too old to need a nap in the afternoon, well unless he was ill.

“That’s good buddy, now we’ve still got a couple of hours before it’s time for supper and we’ve not been down to the beach yet have we?”

Peter lifted his head at that, shifting so he was sitting upright and facing Mr Stark.

“You have a beach?” He couldn’t quite keep the incredulity out of his voice at that. His statement was met with a fond chuckle,

“Kiddo, I’m a billionaire with a mansion on the cliffs – of course I have a private beach. It’s required.”

“ _Tony,”_ Despite the chastising tone there was laughter in Miss Pott’s voice which made Peter think the reprimand wasn’t really serious. That impression was reinforced as his father continued,

“And we haven’t had our Pepper mandated fresh air and sunshine yet today and I’m told such things are important for growing spiderlings. So how about it buddy? It’s low tide so there’ll be plenty of sand for you to build all the sandcastles your heart desires.”

Peter paused for a moment, the slightest hint of a pout on his face as he pretended to think.

“Will you help me build them?”

His father leant back, a mock affronted look on his face, “As if I’d let you build something without me. You’re stuck with me kiddo.”

A grin was spreading over Peter’s face and Mr Stark evidently saw it because the man grinned back before releasing him. “Go get your sandals and hat,” he instructed, “I’ll have sun screen waiting once you’re back.”

He lowered his voice to a whisper then, “And you better be quick, or Pep will have already started her sandcastle and we can’t let her win.” He raised his voice again, “Now scram spiderling, you’ve got one minute to be back here and ready or we’ll go to the beach without you.”

Giggling Peter slid of his dad’s lap and hurried off to his room, however he had only just rounded the corner when he heard Miss Potts say,

“Plotting already Tony? And here I thought my afternoon was going to be peaceful when I got home to find you and Peter fast asleep.”

His father’s response was lost as the elevator started moving, the rumble of the cables drowning out the voices in the lounge and by the time the doors had opened Peter was far too focussed on getting his stuff and getting back downstairs before the deadline to worry about the conversation happening on the floor below.

It was going to be an excellent afternoon.

* * *

Tony straightened, tapping his fingers against the edge of the desk. He’d ended up rising early again this morning, despite the leftover fatigue from pulling an all-nighter during the mission on Friday.

The nap on Saturday afternoon had helped somewhat, Peter’s presence an excellent guard against the nightmares, and then spending the rest of the afternoon simply having fun on the beach had coaxed out the remaining tension.

It was a remarkably mundane family thing, making sandcastles on the beach with his son and his pregnant fiancé. He’d gained an appreciation for these moments in the years after the Snap, but unlike those years there wasn’t the aching void where his missing child should be. Morgan wasn’t yet born, and he missed her, but there was the hope that had been lacking in Peter’s absence. He knew that he just needed to be patient for eight more months he would have her back too.

And it had been fun. True, their castle had collapsed halfway through but that was their own fault for trying to make something as ambitious as the Jedi Temple with nothing more structurally sound than wet sand. Peter hadn’t minded either, simply grinning and shrugging before heading to the shore to race the breakers until Tony had to herd him back up to the mansion for an overdue supper.

Despite the fun though, he still hadn’t slept well. It wasn’t a surprise really, his subconscious had a lifetime’s worth of traumatic memories to draw upon, and being back in the past was only reopening old scars. He’d managed to avoid nightmares on a few nights, normally by dint of having both Peter and Pepper within arm’s reach but they still came depressingly regularly. Combining that with his general restlessness, well it was a wonder that he regularly managed as much as four to five hours.

There was one benefit to an erratic sleep schedule however – it gave him the opportunity to work with, and deal with things he didn’t want Peter getting involved in. Given his son’s senses, it was relatively difficult to keep something from Peter if the boy was awake, and impossible to keep something from him without the boy knowing that something was being kept from him.

It would take too much reconstruction to sound proof the mansion sufficiently, and the other solution, namely drowning out conversation with other sound was obvious. No – it was far easier to simply wait for when the boy was asleep to work on the things he didn’t want his son to know about.

Like the conversation he needed to have with May Parker.

Right on cue Jarvis announced, “You have an incoming call from May Parker Sir.”

“Thanks J – put her on screen.”

A second later May’s face appeared on screen. Even from the simple image Tony could tell from long experience of sitting hospital vigils over injured friends, teammates and spiderlings that she looked quite a lot better.

He inclined his head in greeting, “Good morning May.”

“Good morning Tony, I see Peter isn’t with you?” Her voice rose slightly at the end, questioning.

“It’s an hour or so before I normally wake him up and this was the easiest way to ensure this conversation remains private,” He explained calmly, though he didn’t miss the surprise that flashed across her face when he mentioned waking Peter. His suspicions for the reasons for that were solidified at her next question.

“Have you established a routine then?”

He nodded in reply before launching into a quick run down of a normal day. By the end of it he could see that her eyebrows had risen and there was a glimmer of cautious approval in her eyes. He paused for a second before continuing. He knew his skills at deflecting conversations was second to none, but this was something that it was better to confront sooner rather than later.

“But you had a reason for asking for this meeting Mrs Parker.”

It was a statement not a question, and he saw her subtly straighten, his return to a more formal mode of address noted as she too shifted modes.

“What are your intentions regarding Peter Mr Stark?”

It was a blunt way of raising the topic, but then again, she had always been blunt. He could still remember the tongue-lashing she had given him when she discovered the Spiderman suit.

“He’s my son.” He started simply, “His existence was a surprise but now I know of him I will do everything in my power to ensure he grows up safe and happy.”

“You’ve applied for Joint Custody.” Her voice was flat and controlled.

“I have,” he acknowledged quietly, but Tony didn’t elaborate. He’d been expecting this call ever since the lawyers filed the paperwork, and hadn’t been surprised when she had contacted him. However, whilst he knew she was owed an explanation, it was far more productive to counter her actual objections rather than trying to simply justify himself.

She didn’t disappoint.

“Why?” She said after a few moments, “And regardless, given your lifestyle, why should I accept this and not fight it with everything I have in the courts?”

He’d expected that question, but that didn’t mean he welcomed it. He knew he’d be able to win a court case but he’d rather it didn’t get that far, and not for the first time he cursed his younger self for all the problems he’d caused.

“I love him,” He said quietly in response, “He’s a wonderful child and I wish I’d known about him from the beginning. I wasn’t there, and I can’t change that, but I can be there now and I intend to be.”

He held her gaze, letting her see the sincerity in his eyes, and he though he saw a flicker of grudging respect there.

“Joint custody isn’t taking him away from you May – he’ll still be your nephew blood notwithstanding, and you’ll still have custody, it will just be shared with me now. I can’t and won’t cut you out of his life, but I won’t let you cut me out of his either.”

He took a deep breath, scanning her face for any hint of her feelings on the matter, however, despite the quality of his technology, her face was impassive on the video.

“As for my lifestyle, well, many of my mistakes are a matter of public record and I’m not proud of them. And if that was who I was, and who I am you’d be right in your scepticism.” He could see her eyebrows rising as he continued, “But I’ve seen what that lifestyle does to a child and I _will not_ do that to Peter. I’m sober and I intend to stay that way, and Peter is far more important than any of my old diversions.”

“I’ll hold you to that Stark.” There was the first hint of warmth in her tone, “But if you hurt him, they won’t find the body.”

“You’ll have to get in line. I won’t forgive myself if I fail him.”

For a moment they looked at each other in perfect agreement.

“You’re moving to a new facility late next week,” he changed the subject abruptly, “Once you’re settled, I thought I’d bring Peter over for a visit.”

A genuine smile spread over her face at that. “I look forward to it.”

They chatted briefly for a few more minutes before the call ended and Tony leant backwards, exhaling with a sigh. That conversation had gone about as well as he could have expected, but he was aware he would have to do a lot more before May Parker was fully convinced he could care for her nephew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again - I hope you all enjoyed this week's chapter.
> 
> As promised this was a bit more fluffy - although Peter was very much a grumpy child who's fustrated that things aren't working as they should. There are plot hints - any guesses about what will happen at the gala - and I nearly got caught by surprise that according to canon, Tony's birthday is in late May, so that suddenly had to be included!
> 
> And we see a bit more of May - no court case yet, but as you can see she is keeping her options open, and wasn't the best pleased to see Tony wanted at least partial custody - and we will see more of that in later chapters.
> 
> Thank you for all your kind comments, kudos, bookmarks and subscriptions and see you all next week!


End file.
